Operator
by Iresol
Summary: Pre-Black Hawk Down: From the perspective of Gordon's wife. Sequel to Ranger, where Gordon is a Delta Sniper and is helping Hoot, Sanderson, and Randy through the ropes. Gordon's wife finds life on base really challenging. Gordon fic #2.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Sorry about the length or lack there of. But I'm on vacation and have to run out later. Anyway…enjoy and review. Also, this takes place after my other Gordon story, about two years later.

**One.**

It had been one crappy day.

First, I ripped my favorite t-shirt on the edge of the stove. Then I managed to stab myself in the mouth with my toothbrush and it began to bleed. After that I broke my toe after dropping a pound of frozen ground beef on my foot. All of that before noon when I backed into the garage door. Though I was happy about not hitting Gordon's bike.

My afternoon just went downhill from there.

After I mixed the wrong color paint for my mural at a civic center. I managed to get the addresses of galleries messed up and had two different boxes going to opposite galleries.

Then I got asked out for the third time in a week by the son of the owner of the civic center. The man paying my commission. That was awkward.

To top the day off Gordon called me around three to let me know some guys in the team were coming by for dinner, so pick up six more pounds of ground beef and a few packages of hotdogs.

So it was off to the food store after work. Where I almost ran over an employee who was pushing a row of karts. But really. He shouldn't have been just walking around the parking lot not on the lookout for speeding cars.

Then I almost broke my damn hip on the freshly waxed floor inside.

Needless to say, by the time I got back to the house we had on base I was not a happy camper. I kicked the front door closed and hurled my purse on the table by the door.

Voices emanated from the guys.

They were somewhere off in the house, what sounded like our bedroom.

Bags on my arms I headed off to the kitchen, swearing under my breath. How men trained in every last dark art known to espionage could be unable to go to the food store was a mystery to me. After all, they were Special Forces, were they unable to find a parking spot.

"I'm home _sweetie_! Did you boys do anything constructive?"

Calling them boys was the understatement of the year.

But maybe I lucked out and one of the demolition junkies in the bedroom could unclog the bathroom shower drain. They could do anything in the world and just maybe one of them could fix the garage door opener.

One of the boys who simply went by Ace shouted back, "We ran out of beer."

I thought about yelling that they were SOL. But, they were Gordon's "coworkers" and he could tell them that. Why they were called coworkers was another mystery to me. But, whatever gave them some sense of normalcy was just grand in my book.

The bags of meat slammed onto the counter top.

Stole an Oreo from the Garfield Cookie Jar. A white chocolate covered Oreo.

Peeked in the fridge to see not only had they drank all the beer that had drank the Pepsi and ate my Empanadas.

Gordon came from the bedroom dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His work clothes. Though the shirt was tucked into his jeans that were starched. He ran a hand through his long, by Army standards, hair. Thank God for the relaxed grooming standards, I rather liked his hair grown out a little. With a goofy grin he told me, "We got three new guys today and I made Master Sergeant."

I worked on my Oreo, "Good for you sweetheart. I'll throw you a party tonight."

My husband was a Master Sergeant. That just sounded fun to say. Though I couldn't go around telling people which sucked, but, oh well. "Who are the new guys? Are they here?"

Gordon looked toward the hall that led to our bedroom, "Yeah. Mind if we house them till some housing opens up here? There are some paperwork discretions that have to get worked out for some reason."

Oh fun.

I shoved the rest of my Oreo and began to chew, "Who are we housing?"

Calm as ever Gordon told me, "Hoot, Randy and Sanderson. You remember them?"

I choked on the Oreo and bolted out of the kitchen to Gordon. "Are you serious? The three of them made it through Selection and were placed with you?"

He kissed my crumb-covered mouth and never got a chance to answer me.

"Oh my lordy Jesus! It's honey-chil!"

I turned to see Hoot come around the corner. A hat reading ARMY on his head. That huge smile on his face too. I ran over to him and hugged him. Not tightly and I didn't throw myself on him. It was a light hug that he didn't return, he knew better.

Instead he kissed the corner of my forehead, "Girl, I ain't seen you since my sister's funeral. How'd G been taking care of you? Has he got you pregnant with a lil Army Brat?"

"What's all this baby talk?"

I let go of Hoot and saw Sanderson creep on out, a smile on his face too. I scurried over to him and took his hands. I didn't hug him but I did give his hands a good firm squeeze. He kissed the back of my hands.

"We have a air mattress that one of you can have and I think Gordon has a sleeping bag. You guys can stay either in my work room…there should be room on the floor for one guy. Our living room couch opens out into a bed. Plus…well, this place has a little more floor space then our last one."

"It's a regular Taj Mahal," Gordon added.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

I strolled into our bedroom after giving Hoot his bed stuff. Dropped my robe and threw it on the pantry then hopped on the mattress. Sounds of Gordon in the pantry came out so I shouted out, "So Mr. Master Sergeant, when do you get your raise?"

Like we needed the raise. But, he needed to know that he made some contributions to the household. Even though he didn't financially contribute…I had the bills covered.

He also had no time to fix stuff around the house, so I paid the kids next door to do that chore.

On occasion he'd change the oil.

A pillow flew out of the pantry at me. I ducked and added, "What about another shiny pin for that uniform you hardly ever wear anymore?"

"Angela…you better be in bed!"

Though in the bedroom he was unrivaled by all. That particular part of the marriage he was quite good at.

He strolled into the bedroom a blanket over his arm. A fleece blanket that had cost $200 dollars. Although Gordon had no clue how much stuff cost around the house, it'd probably give him a heart attack. He just thought the blanket was warm and soft, two pluses.

"You gave Hoot the good blanket didn't you?"

The good blanket?

Noticing the look on my face he added, "The red one of these. Where did you find this? Hoot better buy his own."

I bought it from Barney's. What I told him was, "Target…I think. Hoot's your friend and you need to share."

Sharing. He'd learn that as soon as he could balance the checkbook.

What I got was a look in return.

He dropped the blanket on the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. "Uh-huh, right. I've seen your version of sharing. You didn't give them any of our pillows did you?"

I groaned and fell back on our bed. Which consisted of two mattresses stacked on top of the other. Tons of pillows, sheets with a matching comforter, and a nice big huge pillow.

"You gave them our pillows!"

Dear lord. His heart would break if I told him the truth. "Why don't we just make them sleep on the lawn? Would that be ok? We'll give them a float from the garage to fight over."

He strolled over to the dresser and emptied his pockets. Change, keys, and bullet casings.

"They can fight over the couch cushions."

They were so good to one another.

"So Sergeant Master, tell me what new perks come with the job?"

He gave me a look from the corner of his eye and I knew that was probably all I was going to get from him. It didn't matter. To be honest, I didn't really care, just idle curiosity.

So I rolled onto my stomach and watched him. There had to have been a few extra pounds of muscle added since he had last seen Hoot. Especially on his arms, legs, and around his waist.

"Gordon?"

I peeked over my shoulder and saw Sanderson, he appeared to be confused, "Where is the TV remote?"

That particular remote had met a tragic end.

"Gordon and his friends broke it during a Army Game. You have to use the buttons on the TV."

Sanderson's eyebrow rose and he then drew his head out of the bedroom.

I looked back to Gordon who told me, "Don't look at me like that. Ace was the one who stepped on it and you know how excited he gets during football."

Oh yeah, I knew that.

Since I wasn't getting anything out of Gordon out of his promotion. So I then updated him, "The Habib's house down the street and Lemark's over yonder were both declared Arson. So the base people came around and told us to keep our eyes out for anyone acting weird or smelling of accelerator fluid. The guy is of average height and probably white."

Gordon groaned, "That brings this up to what? Seven houses on this base? Has word gotten around to whether or not this guy is one of us or a civilian contractor?"

"They think he's white. The CID was poking around though."

For a moment I thought he snorted. Then words came out, "Oh good. Make sure you don't leave anything valuable at home when you go to work. Did Randy take my new scope? It was up here this morning."

Scope?

"Was it the black tube thing?"

In return I got a look, "Yes."

Oh well then, "No. It's in my purse."

Gordon appeared amused. He strolled over to my purse and picked it up off the floor. Never having any issues about handling it he dug through the contents. "May I ask or do I even want to know?"

He found it wrapped in a piece of felt and inspected it.

"I'm working across the street from a firehouse."

A smile tugged on my husbands face. He was clearly amused, "Firemen you say? Did you get any phone numbers? Maybe we could double date?"

Before I could say anything, Sanderson peeked back in, "Sorry to bother you. Randy wants to know if he can use the washer and dryer."

"Of course," I told him.

Again, Sanderson waved, and was gone.

Gordon dropped my purse and walked to the open bedroom door , which he promptly closed.

Privacy was a wonderful thing.

After that he strolled over to the bed and plopped down on my side. Laying out across the bottom of the mattress. Having no shame about hogging space. With no shame I inched over to him and pressed my ear to his bare warm chest. Then I kissed his chest repeatedly up to his throat and then his lips.

I didn't kiss his lips.

Not because I didn't want to, but, someone was knocking on the door.

Gordon sat up. He got to his feet and went right to the door, less then happy. The door was ripped open to reveal Sanderson yet again. He seemed taken back for just a moment.

Ever so calmly Gordon leant in the doorway, blocking me from view. So I had a splendid view of his sculpted back and jean encased ass. Not that I was complaining, not at all.

"Just make yourself at home Jeff."

There was just something different, something had changed. Gordon and Sanderson were the same age. Both were in the Army and had the basic things in common, they were friends. Gordon just seemed so much more different then Sanderson. He must have grown in more ways then physically since leaving the Rangers. He was so much calmer. Relaxed, more assured of himself then Sanderson was, even Hoot.

I had noticed it here and there before. Little things ceased to bother him.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

With the wave of his hand a few pieces of golden hair fell in his face, "It doesn't matter." Then he closed the door and gave Sanderson a small wave, "Good night."

Though he didn't lock the door the sound of the door closing with the _click _ spoke volumes.

My husband looked back to me and I patted the bed beside me.

"What if there is a fire out there?"

He snorted then crossed the room again, and again dropped down beside me. "Hoot's out there."

"What if it's the arsonist?"

To which he replied, "Hoot's out there. It'll give him something to do."

At that he grabbed a hold of my legs and rolled me on my back. Turned me so my head ended up unceremoniously on the pillow, my newly dyed red hair scattered all about. With a look at the toe rings on my feet.

When I stopped to think about it seriously he was confidant, no hesitation, as if he were in his element.

While he pondered the mystery of my bikini panties I asked, "What about Randy?"

Attention completely on my panties he managed to get out a few words, "He's busy. Unless this house is on fire he won't care."

Busy?

My panties flew off.

I'd worry about it later.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Ok, so I know this is like really short. But I couldn't think of what to add after the end and have just decided this will be a short chapter. Short and sweet. Anywho, review and enjoy! _

3.

Gordon was long gone by the time I woke up and it didn't surprise me. Long gone were the mornings when he would whisper sweet nothings in my ear and hand me a cup of steaming coffee. It had been replaced by a trail of kisses that lead up from my ankle, up my calf, thigh, over my stomach and yonder till he reached my lips.

He would wake me up with a kiss. He would wake me up to tell me he loved me and then he would leave. Naturally, this would be at some God forsaken hour in the morning. So I would go back to sleep for five or six more hours.

Every morning I would get woken up in such a manner, every morning he was home anyway.

However, on that particular morning, it was not any kiss that woke me up.

It was dark in the room when something began to beep and buzz. It beeped and buzzed from on the dresser across our dark bedroom.

In the few moments it took me to wake up, look around, and determine it was Gordon's beeper; he was out of bed and across the room looking at the top of his beeper. By the time I had sorted through the late night post hanky-panky fog in my head and realized that it was his work beeper, Gordon had his cell phone out and was calling someone.

Gordon was getting paged.

He'd be going to work.

"Hey...what's going on? Ok. Ok. I'll be right there." At that he closed the cell phone and looked around for his pants, which he found and pulled on. Next he pulled on a shirt and shoved his feet into his shoes.

I didn't ask where he was going, what he was going to be doing, or when he would be home.

I knew how things worked.

Instead I told him, "Have fun and be safe sweetie."

Even in the dark I could hear the smile on his face when he chuckled. He grabbed a green bag from the closet then his rifle case. Everything was packed and ready to go for pages that came in the late night hours.

Arms full he came to me.

He leant over and kissed me as if it was the last kiss he was ever going to give me and then he told me, "Love you."

I reached up and stroked his stubble-covered cheek. Pushed back some of his unruly tousled hair, that was not cut to Army Regulations. "I know you do. Take care of yourself."

He kissed me one last time.

Then I told him I loved him.

Only then did he leave.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Ok, I am trying very hard not to make this like "The Unit" TV show, which is a great show! Let me know if this veers close to that or gets cheesy or too much like a soap opera. I want to stay close to the movie. Anywho, enjoy!_

4.

Across the street lived neighborhood watch.

She was the wife of the Colonel. A Fifty something year old woman who was almost always in front of her window watching the street and houses for any suspicious activity of any kind.

After all, she was the Colonel's wife and needed to inform him of any sort of domestic unrest within his men's home life.

She needed to know if any of the wives needed any help of any kind.

Then there was me. The only wife of the men of B Team. Sure there were girlfriends. But, a girlfriend was not permanent unless she lived on base and still, she wasn't a dependant. So Mrs. Monroe kept a close eye on me as if I were an orphan.

Then with the addition of the arsonist on base…Mrs. Monroe had her hands full with her spying/neighborhood watch.

So it did not surprise me when I spotted her watching me and the boys like a hawk over its prey. I had walked the boys out and showed them on a map where they were.

I was also in little more then panties and Gordon's t-shirt. Plus my toe rings.

Then came the huge debate on transportation.

Hoot and Randy wanted to ride their bikes to work. But Sanderson, whose truck was being repaired after some moving damages, refused to ride on the back of either bike on the bitch seat.

Why?

I had no idea. I had no problem riding on the back of the bike with Gordon.

So then I had to get the keys so Sanderson could ride Gordon's bike to work.

Before the boys left Hoot gave me a kiss on my forehead and Randy gave me an awkward one-arm hug. It was like hugging a brother. But I patted his back and smiled.

They were just thanking me for the hospitality, but I'm sure Mrs. Monroe was not a lip reader.

I waved the three of them off and headed back in the house. I didn't bother to put pants on or even poke around the kitchen to find food. Nope. I waited by the door. It was not long before there was a knock on the door.

She was priceless.

I turned the knob and opened the door.

There in all her glory stood Mrs. Monroe. Wife of my husbands Commanding Officer. Dressed up as always in a matching peach pant suit, makeup that belonged on a old woman, and her hair frizzed up and dyed a shade of red that made her look yellow.

"Good morning Angela, could I come in?"

What was I going to tell her? No? Oh yeah, that'd go over well. So I opened the door and in she walked without a vocal command. She had missed her calling in life as Queen of England.

In she walked and I kicked the door closed with my foot. Irritated, who me?

"I noticed three new men outside your house."

Subtle like always.

I leant against the wall and crossed my arms. I wasn't going to feed her. It's not that I didn't like her or anything like that. She was the queen bee. But I had issues with people who wanted to take me under their wing and help me. I had more issues then Playboy magazine and I knew that. But no matter how much she and the other wives offered their help, offered their phones and ears, offered everything to make me feel welcome, I just couldn't help but wonder what strings were attached.

I had been spending too much time with Holly.

"Yeah, they're the new guys."

I could have mentioned that I was friends with them and that's why they were camping out with us. That they were Rangers. Or a number of other things.

I didn't.

Jeez, I had serious trust issues.

Mrs. Monroe's eyes looked around. She peeked into the living room and saw luggage and a makeshift bed. She then looked to me.

I waited for a question.

Maybe it was my problem with authority? There had never been anyone constantly checking up on me when Gordon was a Ranger. Though Ranger's far outnumbered the men that Gordon currently served with, and that may have had something to do with it. The sudden change in numbers of Gordon's coworkers.

I understood it was a small community.

I had lived in a small community once and that hadn't gone so great. I did better when I was a small fish among many. When I was invisible.

"They are staying here? All of them?"

"Yep," I chirped.

"If you need any help feeding them or they become too much to handle, you'll let me know?"

No way in hell.

But, what I said was, "Of course."

She gave me that look that told me she knew I was lying. But she also wasn't going to say a word. She knew it and I knew it, and she knew that I knew. We both understood without wordage.

"You know what today is?"

Of course. For the first six months of Gordon's new job I had been invited to the wives lunch. Every time I saw one of them I was invited.

Not once had I been to a lunch.

"I have to work, I'm in the middle of a big commission."

"Of course. But if you get a lunch break, feel free to come over. You're always welcome as Gordon's wife. And remember, if you need any help at all with any of the new men. Call me. I don't care what time it is."

Uh-huh, sure.

What I said was, "Absolutely."

Satisfied with her peek and spying. She looked back to me. Never one at a loss for words she informed me, "I realize that you lost a very close friend last month and you need time to heal. But this is a hard life. It's hard to be an Army Wife and harder to be one of us. If you don't have someone you can turn to and talk to, this life will become unbearable. Believe me on that Angela."

I knew she was just trying to help and that she was sincere.

The thought of replacing Annette and bonding with someone else completely, like a sister, I couldn't handle that again.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Ok! I just had the world's greatest brain flash! A eureka moment! Why these moments never come to me in Algebra is a mystery. I am also getting rid of my Roadtrip story because this will steal the plot from that, and I also kinda stole the plot for that in the prequel story to this. Anywho! Just bear with me people, my creative juices are flowing and I am incorporating my stories here, it'll be like magic! Well, that's enough ranting...I really need to get some sleep. Enjoy and review._

**5. **

Since I was somewhat self-employed, go me, I could pretty much go to work when I felt like it. Within reason. I wasn't a real artist. I didn't own a beret. I had never given an interview and had never smoked a day in my life. Plus, I lived on a military base. That had to break some sort of artists code or something.

But, that morning, it was a good thing I was sluggish.

No sooner had I gotten dressed.

Hunted down my black paint covered combat boots that I wore and shoved them in my work backpack.

Packed a lunch.

Then I found my house keys and was out in the garage when a black jeep pulled into the driveway. It was one of those Cherokees and it looked really battered.

Everything was loaded up into my car, yet, I did not climb in. For one it would have been rude. Plus, the woman who climbed out of the jeep had blocked me into the garage.

Damn her.

When she climbed out of her vehicle I realized she was not turning around. When she called out my name, I realized she was not asking for directions. I also sensed something afoot.

"Mrs. Angela G. Shuggart?"

Shuggart?

This got my attention.

I kicked the driver's door of my car shut and walked out to meet the woman who looked really overworked. A 9 to 5 was so not for me. Plus she had no idea how to iron her faded and wrinkled suit. Plus her dark roots and grey were showing.

She was jus haggard looking and that was it.

"Yes?"

Someone had sent her and I had a big clue who, because of the last name. But I was not prepared for what she told me. "I have you're husbands children in the car. If you would sign here please and I'll leave them in your care."

Children?

Randy had children?

She thrust a clipboard at me. Looking a little wobbly on her heels.

I took the clipboard. More from curiosity to see what it said. My eyes scanned over the legal paperwork.

While I was not an attorney, I got the idea. Gordon had gotten custody of his sons. He had marked me down as a next of kin to take custody of them in the event he was out of country or some other occurrence, like training.

He had even put down his last name for me.

I signed something that could have passed for a signature and she snatched the clipboard away from me. The woman did not even look at my signature. She handed me an envelope and pointed, "They're in the car."

They were in the car.

Suddenly I was freakin terrified.

With a nod I slowly strolled around to her jeep. To the back passenger door, which I opened. Expecting what? Who knew. I didn't even know Randy was a father. It was news to me.

There were two boys in the back seat.

At first I thought she had brought the wrong children. The two boys were of African descent. But then I saw their intense hazel eyes and knew they were Randy's.

They were twins. Kindergarten age. I had no clue how to age children. Plus they were dressed near identically too, which was of no help. Both had their hair in cornrows. Their skin was pale but a pale brown. They looked at me with curious eyes.

So I waved, "Hi."

**Shortly after…**

I didn't want to bother Randy, but I had work to do. So with both boys watching me like a Polar Bear in the zoo.

I still could not tell Trey from Troy. So they had nametags. I had dug out some stickers and put them on their shirts. Though I could have sworn the five year olds switched the tags because one was upside down.

Randy had to know that his children, who he had never mentioned before, were with me and were about to go help me paint. I called work. I knew there was no way in hell I would be speaking to Randy. So I left a message that the boys would be with me.

**A little after noon, call it one in the afternoon…**

I had helpers.

Not only did Trey…or Troy, help me stir the paint up. They played swordfight with the paint sticks and got paint all over the two of them. Then we had lunch on the drop clothe and Troy…or Trey painted on the back of my shirt.

After that they brought me supplies while I was up on the ladder.

They also tracked little lime green footprints on the floor of the civic center on the way to the bathroom. That went over real well.

But it was around one when they two of them began to scream. I whipped around on the top of my ladder, wondering what the problem was.

There was no problem.

It was just Randy.

The two boys ran from stirring paint over to their father. They literally jumped into his arms one on top of the other. Their thin arms wrapped around him like vices. Randy easily picked the boys up.

I watched him kiss the tops of their heads and hug them tightly. Their paint covered bare feet dangled. Occasionally brushing his pants and staining them. From over the tops of their heads he mouthed, _thank you_.

**That night…**

I had more dirty dishes then humanly possible.

But, I had a helper.

Sanderson washed while I dried, while Randy was with the two new roomies. They were going to camp out with their father. They even had a tent set up in the living room for privacy.

Voices giggled from the living room.

While I dried a plate off, I asked the dishwasher, "So. Randy has sons?"  
Intent on his task but always able to chat. "Yeah. It was a quickie wedding, the girl was pregnant. A few months after she had them she just took off with them. She was caught and brought back. He pressed charges and took her to court. The courts must have just terminated all her legal rights to them. They've been fighting over the boys for a year now."

Ah.

So Randy was a determined father. That was nice.

I set the plate down and took a bowl Sanderson handed me. "So how long has it been since he's seen them?"

With a sigh, Sanderson guessed, "He had them while on base. Before he went to Selection he put them with his mom. The judge just made his decision from what I understand and that's why the social worker brought them up. So a few months. He's great with them though."

I could see that.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

A few days went by with no word of Gordon. It wasn't odd. Though the boys began to ask questions. Wondering if I knew where he went. When he would be back. If I ever knew anything other then _I don't know_.

Sanderson finally caught on and stopped asking me.

Hoot however, well I could see he was wondering whether I was pulling his leg or not. As for Randy, he had his hands full with training and his newly acquired sons.

It was six days after Gordon had left. It was a somewhat nice night out. The twins were on the floor watching TV with Hoot while Randy was on the phone, yet again, trying to arrange for some housing. Ha-ha. No one was getting the already limited housing until the arsonist was caught. But it was almost amusing listening to Randy argue with the woman on the other end.

He was so persistent.

It was really admirable.

I had just finished balancing the checkbook in the kitchen, bills scattered all over, ready to go in the shredder, when no other then Sanderson peeked his head in the kitchen. "Angela?"

"Huh," was my answer.

I was slightly distracted. It was a pain trying to balance commission and royalty checks, not to mention Gordon's check. All on a Middle School education. I despised math.

"You doing anything tonight?"

Slightly taken back.

I looked up at him, "Why?"

My spidey sense suddenly kicked in. While he was so much more subtle then Hoot. Sanderson was after something, up to something possibly. Before I said yes I wanted to know just what was going on.

He peeked over his shoulder into the living room.

Then he hurried into the kitchen and stood across the island from me and whispered, "My cousin is in town and wanted to meet up with me. I wasn't even going to go but he is ending his conference and called me."

Uh-huh.

"And…" I asked him.

Sanderson slumped over the counter all over my paid bills. He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Ok look. I hate my cousin. He annoys the hell out of me. He's just inviting me to meet up because he wants to rub my face in his wealth and success and I…well, I can't even tell him, or anyone in my family that I am successful. Plus, I didn't think Gordon would loan you to me."

Inwardly I laughed.

Outwardly I cocked my head, "Loan me? You mean you wanted to borrow me in order to make your cousin jealous?"

"Yep."

A smile crossed my lips and I put my chin on the counter so I could look him in the eyes. I was a good foot away from his face. Still, I felt closer. I reached over and tapped his strong nose with my fingertip.

"Where were you planning on meeting him?"

His eyebrows rose in interest. "His conference is being held in the Hilton. So I figured we would have drinks there."

"What kind of conference?"

"A conference on some new technique he invented for neurosurgery."

Ouch.

Yeah, I would feel slightly inferior.

I'd help him.

"I'll go with you on one condition."

Sanderson perked up, "Ok."

Ok?

"Ok? You don't want to hear the condition?"

Sanderson stood up, "I don't care."

Well it was only fair that he knew what he would be subjected to. "I want the drain in the bathroom unclogged."

"It's done. I'll do it when we get back."

Wow. He really must not have been a fan of his cousin. He stood up and asked, "Could you like…ummm…you know dress…"

"I'll look very nice." I assured him, and then added, "Make sure you wear your uniform. With all your buttons and badges and what not."

**The Hilton…**

The boys didn't seem to care when we left. When I told them we'd be at the Hilton Hoot asked that I pick up some beer on the way home. So I left Hoot and the twins in the capable hands of Randy.

I let Sanderson drive.

I let Sanderson walk around the car and open the door for me at the hotel.

I hooked my arm over his. Which was encased in a hideous color of green. Why couldn't the Army have picked a nicer shade of green for their uniforms? I was all for men in uniform. I loved a man in uniform. But jeez, compared to the black of the Marines and the white of the Navy, the Army's uniforms were just…ok. They didn't render me speechless and full of dirty thoughts.

But whatever, I wasn't head of the Army.

It was probably a good thing too. If Gordon had to wear the Navy, or, pray tell, the Marine uniform, I'd be utterly useless. So maybe it was a good thing.

The inside of the Hilton drew my attention away from the uniform debate in my head.

I was not overly impressed with the lobby. It was nice. But, compared to other hotels I had stayed in for work around the world, it was nice.

Sanderson was in his element.

I had assumed he had come from money and I had been right. Go me.

He stood a little straighter and spoke softly. I was quite happy he did not whisper in my ear. "I'm going to go have them call Roan's room. I'll be right back."

I watched him stroll on over to the lady behind the desk. He stood straight and was at ease around the businessmen and doctors. Who stared at his uniform as if it were a hazard suit.

There were enough pins, buttons, and badges that told the bystander that he was not a grunt. There was a plurality of color. Nothing marking him as the Special Forces soldier he was though. But, there was the way he carried himself. There was a sure way he walked, a calmness to him. He set his cover on the front desk and gave the lady a kind smile. He was very patient.

Something caught my attention.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man.

A complete opposite of all the men in my life. The man carried himself and spoke, even dressed as if he were God's gift to women. The aftershave burnt my nose and he had the second biggest smile I had seen. Julia Roberts was number one.

He gave me a smile and asked, while smoothing his hand over his suit not so subtly, "I'm Liam. You are the best-looking woman around here. Could I buy you a drink?"

Telling him no seemed rude.

So I held my left hand up and smiled, "Sorry."

The wedding band did not deter him. He gave me another smile and held up his left hand, which also had a wedding band, "It's not a problem for me."

Oh, this guy was a winner.

I probably shouldn't have worn the wonder bra. But I didn't think I dressed like a whore. Or in a way that would have creeps gravitate toward me. I had a simple cream pantsuit on. Plus some really big diamond earrings. I had worn my hair down. Good thing I had my roots touched up the other day.

Maybe it was the heels.

It had to be the heels.

Gordon was quite easily distracted when I wore stilettos.

With my left hand, the one with the really big diamond, I shooed him away. "It is for me. Be gone."

"Roan? What are you doing?"

I turned to see Sanderson approach us. Apprehension in his eyes. I pointed to the creep, "This one? He told me his name was Liam."

Sanderson was immediately at my side and not a happy camper. Not subtly, he tugged me to his side and away from the creep. Who looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh, it's my cousin, Roan. He just uses the name Liam when he cheats on the flavor of the month. Roan, this is my wife Angela. Angela, this is my cousin, Roan. Neurosurgeon of the month up at Harvard Med School."

I didn't shake his hand.

Instead, I reached down and held Sanderson's hand. "Nice to meet you Roan."


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

The bar was just spiffy as bars went.

Sanderson didn't drink and neither did I. Roan, however, well, he could have entered a drinking contest with Hoot back in the day and been the runner-up. He seemed to have absolutely everything.

A great job.

He had perfected a technique that had to do with slicing the brain in half to put an end to epilepsy. Or so he said. I didn't know, my Middle School teacher hadn't covered that.

He had a huge house an expensive car.

On his sixth marriage.

Yet, he couldn't help staring at my chest, or ask Sanderson about his job. I had to give Sanderson credit. He was elusive. You couldn't get any kind of answer from Sanderson about his work. He was good.

I was so proud.

It wasn't that bad of an evening until I saw none other then Mrs. Monroe. She saw me. She was with none other then her husband.

Colonel Monroe.

At that time Sanderson and his cousin were arguing over whether Southern Lobster were as good as Northern Lobster. A big debate.

Feeling like I had been caught doing something bad. I nudged Sanderson's knee. He looked to me, leant close, but not too close.

I pointed, "Look," I then whispered.

Sanderson looked and let out a breath, "Well, this can't be good."

The colonel, who had as much shame as his wife, strolled right on over. In uniform too.

Which made me wonder why he was at the Hilton during Neurosurgery week.

Like his wife, he was in his fifties to sixties, unlike his wife, he didn't take fashion tips from Peggy Bundy. Which was a good thing.

Shamelessly he approached the table and looked to the two of us, "Good evening Sergeant Sanderson, Ma'am."

He called me ma'am when he knew just whose wife I was.

It could have been because of the stranger sitting across from us. Who found it necessary to lean forward and shake the colonel's hand, "Good evening. **_I _**am Dr. Roan Sanderson, PhD. This is my cousin…Jefferson…and Angela."

Oh he was just a little drunk.

"I am well aware of who they are."

Oh he was not happy.

The good doctor stood up and announced, "Cuz. I have to go relieve myself. Order me a few more shots of Whiskey and some Tequila to was it down with."

Roan stumbled off and towards the bathroom.

The colonel wasted no time, "Sergeant, are you aware that this is Master Sergeant Gordon's wife?"

"Yes sir. I just borrowed her for the evening. Don't worry. Nothing is going on, I respect Gordon too much. We're all friends back from when we were Rangers. I would never do what you're thinking."

The colonel eyed Sanderson and then myself.

"Just a favor for a friend, sir. The sergeant is staying with Gordon and I until the housing situation works itself out."

Never a man for games or idle chitchat. Oh he would chat. But there was purpose to his chatting. His breath could not be wasted on anything but important wordage. "I am well aware of your current housing situation, Mrs. Gordon. I was also brought to my attention that you still have not attended a single luncheon."

Well that wasn't true.

"I've gone to lots of the lunches and stuff the Wives have."

He didn't miss a beat.

"I did not mean the lunches or meetings for all base wives. I was referring to the meetings for the wives in our particular group. Is there anything that you need to come and tell me?"

His wife had told him that I hadn't attended any of her little lunches? What the hell? I was annoyed. I looked over at her and then to her husband, "Nothing at all, Sir. I've been busy."

"Busy with three additional men to look after? Busy with two twin boys? There is such a thing as spreading yourself too thin ma'am."

**Later that evening…**

An hour or so later we headed home and stopped at the package store to buy beer.

I was glad I was with Sanderson. He didn't say a word about what the colonel told me. Hoot would have been all over my ass. Gordon would have been bouncing off the damn walls. Randy, well I wasn't sure about him. I didn't know him that well yet.

Sanderson gave me a look and that was it.

He was more concerned about my footwear. As he handed the cashier, Mr. Patel, according to his nametag, he looked to me. "You sure you're ok to walk on those things? They cannot be comfortable. Those heels have to be at least five inches."

Five inches was about right.

I peeked down at them and then to Sanderson, "So. I look good."

He wasn't going to argue with that.

He took the change from Mr. Patel and took the twelve case of beer off the counter with ease. With a peek at his watch he sighed, "You've been on those stilts for close to four hours now."

I peeked at my watch.

It was 11:29.

Four hours sounded about right.

I strolled on out and pushed the door open for him, "You're just jealous that you can't walk in stilettos."

He looked stunned.

But walked out the door into the lit parking lot. I followed him.

"How does Gordon put up with you?"

Grinning, I ran, or tried to run after him. I more hobbled. Which was not quite easy in stilettos, especially on uneven cement.

I followed him to my car.

However, before I made it to my car, someone grabbed my arm. I don't mean some took hold of my arm and I came to a stop. Oh no. Someone came from behind a parked car and just grabbed a hold of my arm and pulled me to a sudden stop. I swung backwards into them and stumbled.

Less then pleased, I whipped my head around and saw a man I didn't know. Probably because he had a ski mask covering his face.

I let out a scream and tried to pull away.

It was then I saw Sanderson back up, a man with a knife stood in front of him. I was confused. What was going on. The man in front of Sanderson, masked too, told Sanderson, "Give me your wallet and we won't hurt the chick."

Chick? Well I must have been the chick.

Then it dawned on me.

They were mugging us!

Sanderson looked to me and then he moved faster then I had seen him move in my life. He threw the case of beer at the masked man in front of him. The case hit the man right in the face. Sanderson then turned and lunged toward me. He grabbed the man behind me and pretty much ripped him off me.

It all happened so fast.

I spun around and saw he had the man by the throat. He hooked his leg behind the man's and the action sent the man toward the ground, quite hard.

I looked to the other man.

He was pretty much rolling around on the ground holding his head. The box of beer lay on the pavement draining a lot of beer.

The urge came and I kicked him in the leg. Hard. Then I yelled at him, "Asshole!"

He groaned.

I quickly dug in my purse and took out Annette's taser. I bent down and pressed it to his thigh and buzzed him.

He was so not moving after that. That would teach him to mug me! How dare he. I was more pissed off then I was afraid.

Just being super pissed I kicked him again in the thigh. I looked over at Sanderson who watched me with a cocked eyebrow.

After he blinked he questioned me, "You ok?"

I thrust a finger at the one he was standing on, "He touched me!" Where the hell were the cops when you needed them?

Sanderson put a little more weight on the back of the man. The man was face down on the cement with one arm pulled up behind his head, pushed into his back by Sanderson's foot.

It did not look like a comfortable position.

He looked back to me, "Do you want to call the cops and file a report?"

God no.

I loved the police, but, was in no mood. "No. Lets just go."


	8. Chapter 8

**8.**

Sanderson didn't really say anything about the lovely evening to Hoot when we got home.

Randy was already in his tent with the twins.

Three sets of feet stuck out from the flaps. Randy's in the middle and his son's on either side of him.

While Hoot complained about the lack of beer I went into the bedroom that was mine and Gordon's. I kicked off my shoes. Strolled over to the bed and dropped my purse on it. Right next to a piece of paper. I picked it up and saw Randy's handwriting.

Or I assumed it was Randy.

It wasn't Hoot's writing and Sanderson had been with me all night.

The note said, **Col. Monroe wants you in his office tomorrow. 09:00. Nothings wrong with Gordon.**

Inwardly I swore like a sailor. Outwardly I groaned and dropped down on the bed I shared with Gordon. The two mattresses bounced as I flopped down on them.

It was late and I was tired.

Too tired to change.

Since I didn't have any make-up on I didn't have to wash my face. So I rolled over and got on my hands and knees. I pulled the covers back and began to arrange pillows. I pushed my purse on the floor. Then put Gordon's pillow lengthwise on his side so I could cuddle up against the pillows that smelled like him.

**Later that morning…**

Something woke me up.

Movement woke me up.

The twins woke me up as they pulled pillows off the bed and hopped on my mattresses.

Plus Trey, or Troy shone a MagLite flashlight in my face. The mother of all flashlights.

I blinked and woke up. Looking around, "What's going on?"

Troy…or Trey spoke up from where he was on my bed. "Dad got a beep. He told us to come in here."

A beep?

Oh! Randy had been paged. Oh fine, whatever.

But then I realized the two boys were climbing in the bed to sleep what was left of the morning away with me. Immediately I sat up. Thus giving them more room. They both fit on Gordon's side of the bed. Side by side they scooted under the blanket and made themselves comfortable.

The one closest to me was in a Superman PJ suit and the other had dinosaurs on his PJs. Completely harmless little boys. Yet, I couldn't just lie there.

I sat up and leant against the wall.

I watched the two of them snuggle into the bed.

The one in dinosaur PJs, Troy I thought, looked up at me. Remarking, "You shouldn't sleep in your daytime clothes."

He had a point.

So I reached over and patted his head, "I know Troy."

"I'm Trey," he told me.

Of course he was.

I watched the two brothers make themselves at home in my bed and drift off to sleep. Once they were asleep I turned on the lamp. Took off my earrings and set them on my nightstand. I grabbed my book and started to read.

**08:50 that morning…**

I set Trey and Troy on a bench outside Col. Monroe's office. A bag of toys to play with. Plus I had tossed in a few juice packs for them incase it was a long meeting.

I had put Troy in an orange shirt because there was an **o** in his name. Then I had put Trey in a green shirt because of the **e**. It would be harder for them to switch shirts instead of name-stickers.

I had also made sure to get to the office early. Ten minutes early. I had learned that being on time in the military was the same as being late. Get there five minutes early and you were good to go.

Once I had them situated I went across the hall to Col. Monroe's office. I smoothed my hands over the shirt I had worn. I prayed that I looked presentable and then I knocked.

"Come in."

So I went in the small but cozy office. It was done nicely. Professional yet, not sterile or impersonal. You felt comfortable in the office. Colonel Monroe pointed to a nice leather chair that was rumored to have been stolen from the officer's lounge on base. He glanced at his watch, "You're early. Good."

I sat down and sunk in the chair.

Briefly I wondered just how many times Gordon had sat in the chair.

He was just finishing up some paperwork but was a multi-tasker. "How are those two young boys behaving for you Mrs. Gordon?"

"Very good sir. They are very well behaved young men."

"That's what I want to hear."

He finished up whatever he was working on. Put it in a closed file. Set it on a stack of files and then looked to me. "I believe you know why I asked you to come down here this morning?"

Well, it wasn't about Gordon.

I hesitated.

He didn't seem to want to wait for me to guess. "Mrs. Gordon, I know you aren't having an affair with Sergeant Sanderson. Forget that mess. I don't care if you spend time with the men camping out in your house. I'm concerned that you have too much responsibility on your back. I usually don't have this specific problem. I usually have more problems with the new wives not able to handle the responsibilities and leaving, or what not. My wife tells me that you are always busy, always working, always doing something non-stop 24/7. That's just not healthy for one person."

"Gordon helps," I chimed in.

He sighed and leant back in his chair crossing his arms over his chest.

The man was not convinced.

"Give me three good reasons why I should let you continue this way. I have other Operators who will house Jeff, Randy, and those two boys."

Dear God. The man was giving me an ultimatum.

Ok.

I could name three reasons.

While I thought them up I popped my toes within the sneakers I had worn. "I promised Gordon that I would watch after them and they promised Gordon that they would keep a eye on me."

He was silent, waiting.

So I continued, "They need my help. I need to return the favor for them. A while back they housed Gordon and I when we were in need of it."

Then the third one just came to me. "And…they are my family."

His eyes read me like a polygraph.

Finally he told me, "You do realize that if you are burnt out then you will be of no use to Gordon. Gordon will be distracted and a distraction of any kind could get him killed?"

A cold rock hit the bottom of my stomach.

Oddly enough I was deathly silent.

"Look. I get you have issues. I get you and Gordon have a seriously committed relationship. That came up on his psych exam. He is no good to me or this country if you're no good to him. Right now, you have too much on your plate. I'm working on getting Randy housing for him and those boys. I want you to let my wife work with you on getting all their paperwork up here. She knows how to work the system. There are several wives on base here that take turns babysitting, I want those boys there a few days a week to give you time to work alone, and take care of the house. Now I know there are no other wives on this team. But there are wives on the others and if you don't start spending time with them I am going to get annoyed. Spending time with the regular wives is not the same as these wives. These women know just what you are going through and are women you can openly talk with about what your husband does. Eventually you will have to rely on someone and it's better if it's someone you can be 100 honest with."

I was stunned.

For a moment I gaped. Then I asked, "Is all that an order?"

Without missing a beat he informed me, "Yes it is."


	9. Chapter 9

_Authors Note: Ok. Like I had in the prequel to this, I'll have the occasional chapter with Gordon's point of view. Like this chapter. So enjoy and review._

**9. Gordon**

**A day later around 7 P.M.ish…**

I had gotten back with a small case of hypothermia plus a bullet wound. But other then that I was fine. The bullet didn't hit anything important and I had extracted it in the field. The hypothermia wasn't full blown.

I was fine.

But, the doctor we had especially for our teams held me over a day to keep an eye on my heart rate. So I wrote up my notes in the infirmary over the night. By the time morning rolled around and the doc came back I was doing one-armed push-ups.

The delusional man however didn't give me a clean bill of health till later that evening. He wouldn't even let me on the treadmill to do my usual ten-mile run. He was punishing me for some reason.

By the time I was free must the guys were gone. Which was a good thing. I had the showers to myself.

I didn't go home dirty.

I always showered before I went home. I also did my laundry before I went home. She didn't need to be washing blood, gunpowder, and God only knew what else out of my clothes.

So I threw everything in the industrial strength washer and then headed into the showers. I made special care to be careful around the top of my hip, just below my waist on the left side. Where the bullet had lodged itself under my skin. My thumb gently ran over the stitches I had given myself. In a few days I'd take them out.

After a nice long ten-minute shower I grabbed a towel and walked to where the lockers were and found mine.

Randy was seated on the bench lacing up a pair of sneakers. At the sight of me he was surprised, "G! I didn't know you were back!"

I just smiled.

"Heard you got your boys back. Congrads on that."

A grin curled on his lips.

That was until he saw my stitches. It was one of those dastardly reality checks. He licked his suddenly dry lips and added, "Yeah. They really seem to like Angela."

Well that was good.

I opened my locker and wondered if I dared wear jeans. Would they rub the stitches? "You getting enough time with them?"

He laughed, "Working on it."

Aha!

A nice old battered pair of jeans. Perfect.

"You want to come with us? Hoot and Sanderson took the boys down to Chuckie Cheese. I believe they borrowed Angela too to get the group discount."

They borrowed Angela?

"What the hell is Chuckie Cheese? What'd they need to borrow my wife for to go there?"

Randy didn't answer me.

Infact, he quickly quieted down.

"Gary, I need a word with you."

I turned my head to see my commanding officer, Colonel. Monroe. When he didn't leave Randy took the hint. "Ok, I'll see you at the house. I'll leave directions for Chuckie Cheese."

I turned back to Randy and gave him a small wave. Then I looked to my colonel as I pulled the jeans on, dropping the towel on the bench. "Yes sir?"

I had already turned in my mission notes.

I was in need of a shirt. But it could wait. I leant against the cool lockers on my arm only.

"This is about your wife."

Angela? Confused I asked, "What about her?"

"She's an artist?"

"Yes sir."  
"Recently she had a showing over in London?"

"Yes sir. She has showings and her work in galleries all over the world. She didn't go to London though. She rarely goes to a showing of her work."

Not because of me.

It had always been like that since her art took off.

She just didn't want the fame or notoriety. Satan, or Holly, her boss/agent/gallery owner went to every last showing though for her.

"There are two men trying to contact her for a commission. The first one isn't a problem. He's a prince in England, not a serious issue. But, a prince from Saudi Arabia saw her work in the London showing and is also trying to get in touch with her in order to get her to paint his children's rooms."

Good Lord, Saudi Arabia had more princes then Europe had royalty. "Whose the prince?"

He told me who the prince was.

Right off that bat I knew he was not a problem. It was his brother and cousin who were known to have naughty friends and were suspected to have taken part in far worse activities.

"What are you thinking Gary?"

Immediately I told him what I was thinking, "She's not going to Saudi Arabia."

"That's not what I was thinking."

I didn't give a damn what he was thinking. Honestly I didn't. She could paint Buckingham Palace for all I cared. But she was not venturing into the Middle East. Israel…maybe, depending on whether they were shelling each other. Possibly South Africa. There was no negotiation for the Middle East.

"What if you go with her?"

My eyebrows rose, "No. Because she's not going. Period. End of discussion."

"Gary. She paints under an alias. She'll need a male escort to go there. It would be an excellent opportunity to find out what those two are up to. We could create a whole new alias for you that would get the two men interested in you. Just think about it."

Oh, I was thinking about it.

"That still leaves the problem of my wife being in a country that treats women like…slaves. She'd have to wear an Abaaya. Hell, our women over there have to keep covered and segregated on our bases. That's not fun. Do you have any idea how long it takes to paint stuff?"

"You wouldn't be alone."

"I don't care if Seal Teams two and four are with me. You aren't feeling me. Put yourself in my shoes. I'd not only be subjecting her to a culture that isn't fun for the females living there. She'd be subjected to any possible dangerous situation that I'd be subjected to. If you send me to Saudi Arabia to do this, I can do it without a problem. Positive. But if she is with me then I'll be distracted."

The colonel regarded me for a moment.

He took a breath to calm his ass down. Then he oh so calmly told me. "If the prince gets a hold of her. This would be a once in a lifetime opportunity. We could never get a beautiful chance like this again. I want you to think hard. Really really hard. If you can't talk her out of the job then you need to think of a way not to be distracted."


	10. Chapter 10

**Gordon.**

Chuckie Cheese looked like a war zone.

There were children running around and screaming all hyped up on sugar and pizza.

They were everywhere with no adults in sight.

It looked like Normandy…just with a big mouse walking around hugging kids.

A little suspect to me for a career.

But, I was a sniper, so who was I to judge?

I spotted Sanderson playing a game. One of the bowling-esqe games where you tossed a ball on a platform thing and tried to get it to land in a plastic cup. He had a bunch of tickets.

I saw Hoot playing a shooting video game. Competing against some eight year old that was loosing and not happy about it. Neither was his mother.

Finally I found Randy and Angela.

They had the twins and were on driving games. Each had a boy on their lap steering the car. They were doing a very bad job of driving. Kinda like Hoot. The closer I got the more I noticed Angela's comfort level with the little boy on her lap.

It was obvious she didn't want children. She had been very vocal about that fact.

But, just watching her with the kid.

It pulled at me.

Her vocality was conflicting with the way she responded to Trey, who was just a little shorter then Troy. More shy then his brother too.

The way she held him spoke volumes. She held him the way a mother would hold a child. Arms wrapped around the small waist like a security blanket. Holding in order to comfort and nurture, not just protect. She spoke and laughed right beside his ear while he giggled, intent on driving the car into every single object in his path on the game.

His short legs clung to her much longer legs in the same way a rider clings to a horse. For stability.

There was no sense of unease in her form.

She was completely comfortable with the little boy hoping around on her lap. Laughing and clapping, amused that he had managed to drive his car through a building. He pointed to the totaled wreck that was his car and told her something I didn't hear.

There was too much background noise.

She gave him a token and he quickly put it in the machine.

"Oh my lordy, Gordy wants a lil Gordy runnin around."

I didn't turn.

It was Hoot.

If the accent hadn't been a huge clue, the smell of his deodorant was another one. Along with the bad vernacular and childish teasing.

"Did that mother give you hell?"

He snorted and stood beside me, "Not that it's any of your concern, an yes, she did, bitch. That kid need to learn that life ain't fair."

She must have given him hell. It made me grin.

Angela began to set up the game for Trey while he bounced and clapped. Utterly thrilled with the game and his driving ability. "I hope you learned your lesson."

"Shut-up," was Hoot's answer.

I put my weight against a machine that slightly sagged.

Some acne skinned teenager glared at me.

I glared right back.

He decided he wanted a different game and scurried off. What a wimp. When I was his age no one stared me down. Though…I also worked seventy hours a week on a fishing dock while earning my GED. The kid had it too easy. No wonder he was at Chuckie Cheese. He obviously had no challenge in his life.

I turned my attention back to my wife.

"When you gonna knock her up?"

"She's on the pill Hoot."

A snort was what I got in return, "So. Women still get wit child on that pill. How you think I'm here beside you?"

Finally I looked at him, "Some four hundred pound woman man-handled you a few minutes ago."

First he flipped me off.

Then he quickly peeked over his shoulder.

Finally he looked back to me, "G. Look at your woman. She want a child. She just don't know it yet. Look at how she is with Troy."

"Trey," I corrected.

Again, Hoot peeked over his shoulder. Then to me, "Whatever. What I'm tryin to articulate if you'd let me is…you want children."

I wasn't going to deny it.

"Watchin the wife with Randy's children is gonna awake that green lil monster we all know you got."

"I am not a jealous person."

"Not, you ain't a jealous person. G, you one of the most compassionate and friendly peoples I know. **But**. That woman there wit _Trey _on'er lap. That there is gonna cause some dissension. First off and foremost, the wife is yours. You got this caveman thing down, which ain't a bad thing. Ok. God willin I'll be the same way wit my wife an offspring. But wifey is your property. You followin me?"

God help me I was, I nodded.

With a quick look around he then continued, "A'ight. The wife is yours. We know that she is hands off. She's our sista. Now, since you all primal in your innards, you want lil ones. Watch'in her wit lil ones that ain't yours is gonna gnaw at you till you get all pissy. An that ain't fun. _Shit!_ Here she comes! Hell, I see you later."

Having spoken his words of wisdom and being spotted by the angry mother, Hoot took off.

I waved.

On his way by, Hoot gave Trey his tickets and blew a kiss to my wife.

The worst part was he was right.


	11. Chapter 11

_Authors Note: Ok. I just wanted to add in here before someone says something that the mugging is actually part of the plot. It's in the storyline and in a few chapters will become more clear, maybe one, depending how much I get written. Anywho, this whole plot idea sounded really good at three this morning when I should have been sleeping, or freaking out over my Algebra Quiz. No, I'm plotting out my fanfic. It should do wonders for my GPA. Anywho, enjoy and review._

**11.**

Once Trey was bored I was able to leave.

Randy took the boys to go ride the go-karts outside, thus letting Gordon and I slip away unnoticed. For which I was really grateful. Gordon led me through the chaos that was the restaurant/arcade/and outdoor games. Through the throng of over-sugared hyper children.

Past the oblivious parents.

Past the grown-man dressed up as a rat that was a little weird to me. But, hey, who was I to judge? I never held a job. I never worked in a public place. I never had to dress up in a hideous outfit.

Gordon bumped the front door open with his hip.

He must have gotten the sticky substance on his hand coming into the war zone. I had stuck my hand on something gooey opening the door. It was vile and an odd shade of blue.

An unnatural shade of blue.

The blue of fish on a coral reef. A blue that told bigger fishes not to eat them that they were poisonous. But, I suppose some people were not quite as smart as fishes.

I spotted the bike parked under a light in the parking lot. Gordon had led me halfway there before I managed to pull him to a stop. I got him turned around under the night sky. Under the moon and a partial street lamp.

I just needed to see his face for a moment.

For just a moment.

I reached up and ran my thumbs over his cheeks. Over his strong nose and smooth chin. For just the moment I wanted to smooth my fingers over his skin. Once we got home I knew just what we'd be doing.

What we usually did when he got home. Not all the time, but most the time. No longer did we feel the need to make up for lost time. Though, some days we did. But, whenever he came home there were usually three moods he could be in. He could have had a boring time; in which he'd have plenty of energy to burn. He could have had an extremely busy time; in which he would simply just want to be held and taken care of. It was definitely a oddity holding a full grown Gordon, who stood at 6'2" and weighed in at 220 something, all of it being muscle, being better toned then a professional linebacker. It was like coddling a Rott puppy one had since puppy hood. While the dog is a beast, you know it won't hurt you.

Then there was the mood he was in standing in front of me. Where he had a successful job. Where celebratory hanky-panky was to take place.

But we weren't home yet.

I smoothed my hands over the t-shirt.

My fingertips traveled over his stomach. Over the tight muscles of his stomach and up over his firm chest.

When his clothes came off I'd check him for cuts, bruises, and any sign of injury. Only then would I be positive he was safe.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. I buried my face in the shirt and took in the smell and feeling that was Gordon. I breathed him in and never wanted to let go.

I didn't have to.

His hands found their way under my bottom, he scooped me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist letting his carry me to the bike. I buried my face in the side of his neck and kissed the heated skin.

He was so big and strong and I never felt anything but security in his arms.

"Did you bring a extra helmet," I asked.

He didn't.

What he told me was, "I'll go steal Hoot's."

He set me down beside the bike. My helmet was netted down on the back that meant he hadn't worn one. Dummy. Then he ran into the parking lot full of mini-vans and big cars.

I sighed. Inwardly praying that he wouldn't kill himself in a motorcycle wreck.

I pulled the helmet out from the net and tugged it down over my head. Making sure it was snug and comfortable, not pulling on my hair.

The helmet was on nicely.

The sound of footsteps made me turn. "That was awfully quick. Hoot's parked over th…" I stopped talking. There was a man with a knife. A man who looked strangely familiar. He sagged at the sight of me and swore, "Shit."

I was equally stunned.

It was the same fool that had tried to mug Sanderson and myself. I remembered the way he stood, his voice, everything. "What the hell is your problem! Don't you work? You seriously need a real job! Someone is going to shoot you one day. Speaking of which, my husband is here and he is really trigger happy!"

The man was literally stunned beneath the ski mask.

He stepped back, knife in hand. "Just…give me your wallet."

Excuse me?

Oh hell no! "No! Go away or I'll scream and my husband will come and he is not near as friendly as my other friend."

The man actually listening.

He stepped back farther and was about to walk away. When his buddy, the man I had tasered came over. At the sight of me he swore, "Shit! It's her!"

They were so getting on my nerves.

They weren't even good crooks! I had been mugged and these two fools weren't real muggers. They weren't real thugs. I had kicked their ass and I wasn't exactly Rambo.

If I could do them harm.

Gordon could do more then harm to them. I shared this fact with the two idiots, "You two better go! Now! I'm warning you."

The one with the knife believed me. The other one didn't believe me. Or maybe his pride had been damaged when I stunned him with my taser and kicked him. Getting your ass handed to you by a girl must have been a bad thing for a man's pride. Who knew?

He stepped toward me.

He had a knife.

I was no Rambo.

I took off, helmet on my head, flip-flops smacking on the gum covered cement as I yelled for Gordon.

It wasn't often I ran screaming to Gordon for help. Literally. I ran through the row of cars yelling for my husband to be my knight. Even through the helmet I could hear the guy behind me. My spidey sense told me he was following me too.

Where the hell were the police when you needed them?

I whipped around the back of a mini-van covered in honor student bumper stickers and ran right into Gordon. Which sent me back into the minivan. I bounced off that and landed on the ground.

Mr. bad-mugger landed on the ground inches away from me.

He did not move.

This got my attention. I nudged him with my big toe. He was out like a light. I looked up and saw Gordon held Hoot's helmet in hand. Which had a little blood on it. He reached down and helped me up to my feet.

"Who the hell is that?"

That? I looked down and casually told him, "He tried to mug Sanderson and me the other night at the liquor store."

Gordon gave me a look and decided not to ask.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: Hey y'all! This will be a short chapter. But I just had to put this in here. Like a lesson on what not to tell a state trooper when he pulls you over - Lily! Not that I'm naming names here. But this is too perfect for me to pass up. Anyway, I am a daughter of cops, I have cops in my family. Pretty much everyone in my family either joins the military, goes to nursing school, or become a cop. So no offense meant I'm poking at my own family. Enjoy and review._

**12.**

There was an art to riding on the back of a motorcycle.

It was fun. Yet, highly exciting in more ways then one. I rode on the back of the bike and clung to my husband. My arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Pressed up against the back of him. Inched up behind him.

Not to mention the bike was warm and vibrated nicely beneath me.

Then there was the whole riding thing.

Balance was key. I had to move with Gordon into turns, out of turns. There could be a little bit of movement but not a lot.

I curled up behind him and didn't move, didn't shift weight around the back.

Plus having my fingers hooked into the belt loops on his jeans wasn't exactly a bad thing.

Gordon liked to ride fast.

With me he didn't go half as fast as he usually did. Which I could figure out by how much gas he went through.

But he drove at a pretty high rate of speed through the green hills of North Carolina towards the base.

I didn't mind going fast.

It didn't bother me and he loved to drive fast. Gordon slowed down to about 45mph as he came to a four way stop, slow enough to see there were no other cars, and sped on through. After we sped through I heard something.

I turned my head and saw blue lights behind us.

A cop.

Wonderful.

I gave a tug on Gordon's waist.

He noticed and slowed his bike down then pulled the bike over to the side of the road. I peeked over my shoulder and saw the cop was on a bike too. A Harley bike.

Our bike came to a stop and Gordon's feet hit the ground, balancing the bike. He turned it off and kicked the stand down on the ground. Almost simultaneously we took our helmets off and I warned Gordon, "Behave yourself. Remember what happened last time you got pulled over?"

A three hundred dollar ticket that I had paid for.

"Yeah yeah."

I kissed the back of his neck, nibbled on his ear. "If you behave yourself I'll give you a big reward."

That got his attention.

But it was quickly deterred when the cop strolled on up to us. He looked between Gordon and myself shining a flashlight on us. Then our military id base sticker. Then to me.

"Well you're a little too cute to be riding around on the back of this grunt's bike."

I was what?

My spine suddenly straightened out and I was three inches taller. Gordon's hand landed on my knee and I informed the cop, "You're a little hefty to be riding that bike back there."

Gordon sighed and patted my thigh.


	13. Chapter 13

**13.**

**Gordon**

I woke up to the sounds of utter chaos. My grandmother had been right. Trouble always comes in threes. Even in death the superstitious old woman was right. She may have been onto something instead of just being kooky. But, I was starting to get more and more superstitious. Just laying in bed and listening to the sounds of chaos on my house, I realized I was turning into my grandmother.

Well, kinda.

I had my own traditions and superstitions, even ceremony I followed to be sure life was the way it was supposed to be. The key being; separating the wife from the work. Which wasn't that hard. Once the pager went off I was gone. The switch was flipped. Once I told her I loved her, never goodbye, never. That was just bad luck.

At the office there were no pictures in my locker.

That would be distracting.

There were no mementos from home anywhere in the office. Just like there was never any work from the office at home. Paperwork was done at the office. The gym was outside the house. I never worked out at home. My weapons were at home. But that was different, they were a part of me. They had to be close.

When I came back from work, from a trip, paperwork was always done before I left the office.

I never left the office before it was complete.

Rarely did I call her. Never unless I would be gone longer then a month away, and rarely at that. She never got a call from me. She talked more to the colonel when I was away then me.

I showered before I left the office and did my laundry there. Keeping her from my work by sight and feel.

It was obsessive, I knew that.

But any break from the cycle would result in something bad. The more I thought about that the more I wondered how I had passed the psych exam. God I was a mess.

Before that thought could be pondered the bedroom door opened and in strolled Sanderson with a Home Depot bag on his arm.

I remained where I was. In bed, on my back, hands folded behind my head, and thankfully covered with a quilt over my legs and essentials. "What are you doing?"

Sanderson jumped.

He turned and saw me, then sighed, "I promised Angela I'd unclog the drains. I just did the first bathroom, she said the bedroom one needed doing."

Uh-huh.

At that he just strolled on into the pretty sizable bathroom.

Jesus, I couldn't be naked in the next room. I probably needed to get up too. "Sanderson! Throw me my pants. They're on the sink."

My sweatpants flew out of the bathroom. On the bed. For which I was eternally grateful. All I had to do was sit up and pull them on. No flashing Sanderson for me. For which he was probably grateful.

Once I was decent I rolled off the mattresses and onto my feet. A familiar ache returned in my left foot. Right inside, a muscle injury. Muscle sometimes never heals. It's a pain, literally. But once I got to moving it was never a problem.

I stepped out of the serenity of my bedroom and into the chaos that was my house.

Troy just happened to run on by with one of those big red fingers one has at a sporting event. I had to take a second look. He wore a red Speedo, red cape, and red boots. Essentially the Superman outfit he had won minus the blue jumpsuit.

Ok.

He was six, let the child have his fun.

On my way through the hall. Which had been thoroughly decorated by the wife with black and white pictures, this week. She'd redecorate on a weekly basis. It wasn't odd to come home after work and find the furniture rearranged or the house repainted inside and out.

Whatever made her happy.

So long as the house was clean, the fridge was stocked, and my bed was soft; I didn't care. The house could be pink for all I cared. At one time I was pretty sure we had a pink couch. Well, according to the wife it was magenta. Whatever, it was in the neighborhood of pink.

Voices emanated from the living room.

Voices belonging to Randy and Col. Monroe's wife. The two were talking about the twins, big surprise. But the subject surprised me. Inwardly of course. I caught just enough walking on by towards the kitchen where there was food.

"Look, I'm more then grateful. I have no problem putting my boys in day care during the day. None at all. But I'm not taking my boys out of this house until I have a permanent house. Preferably close."

"Randy…"

"No Mrs. Colonel, ma'am. This is the most stable environment my sons have ever had. Their mother was not the best. They are flourishing in this environment and have a routine. I am not breaking that. When I'm gone in the future they'll be staying here too. I need them to be used to staying here and Angela."

Arguing with the colonel's wife. Not good.

But…he'd need someone to have his back. She was a feisty female. So I came to a stop mere feet from the door. Turned, and added, "Mrs. Monroe, I can assure you it is no trouble at all. Angela and myself really enjoy having them here. Plus, we know just how essential this stability is for their well being and really want to give back."

The look she gave me was pure venom.

I was pretty sure she had been briefed about myself and the wife.

But she didn't become head Army Wife for no reason. Almost automatically she snapped back so pleasantly, smiling infact, "I'm sure the both of you do. However, in the event that Angela is on her own with the two boys, I don't want her to feel too overworked."

Randy was quicker then I was with the ornery woman, "Hence daycare. They'll be out of her hands all day. When nightfalls she'll have company and someone to look after and take care of, you know how maternal she is. This'll be therapeutic for her."

In Randy's hands was the paperwork the Colonel's wife had brought over. Paperwork of the twins. They had been made Randy's dependants. I grabbed the paperwork from him and breezed on through as the two began to go at it again.

The first few pages were naming Trey and Troy as his dependants plus other important paperwork. Birth certificates, shot records, and whatnot. The third was a copy of his request for base housing, family housing. Then I came to his Will and Last Testament.

Death paperwork.

My eyes scanned the paper and saw what I expected. The boys were heir to all his possessions. My wife and myself were to get the boys in the event he died before they were adults. Angela's signature was on the bottom beside his and the lawyer's.

When the hell had this taken place?

Where was my wife? She had some explaining to do. Last I knew she didn't want kids and I had been gone not two weeks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Gordon**

My wife was doing laundry.

In truth, she was doing like three things at once. The woman was a never-ending source of amusement. Or amazement.

While she pre-spotted clothes that then went into the washer that was filling up with water. The dryer rumbled mere inches away. The phone was on her ear and I could tell she was talking to Satan, or the name the woman went by usually, Holly. The woman who wanted nothing more then to milk every last penny that she could out of my wife.

On the foot of my wife was Trey.

All over her legs were green marks, big and small marks. The child was coloring in her scars with a green marker.

Of all the days for her to wear her cleaning clothes. Which consisted of little more then a pair of little red shorts and a white wife beater that was old enough to be pretty see through. Allowing myself to see the outline of her red bra.

The only sun the clothes saw were the backyard and were usually my eyes only.

It was Saturday after all.

As she was explaining to her boss; Satan.

"No. Holly. No means no, I have stuff to do here and the day off. It's a Saturday…look it up, it's a day off work. No, I'm not leaving the house princess. I'm not coming to the office. I don't care who calls and wants to speak with me, really I don't."

She tossed a shirt in the washer and then tossed some other pieces of clothing into the washer.

Trey continued to intently color on her perfect calf. Tongue sticking out as he worked very hard on filling a long scar with the color green.

Enough of that.

I walked over and picked up the child from his spot on her foot. Trey's head whipped around and a pout crossed his face. "I was prettifying her leg."

Prettifying?

The kid had been spending way too much time with Hoot. I bounced him over to my hip as Angela took the marker from him and wrote a number on the orange bottle of Tide.

My eyes immediately looked over the number.

It was English. A number in England. That was ok, safe, wasn't Saudi Arabia.

"Uh-huh, yeah, got it. What's the guys name? Never heard of him. I don't care if it's the King of India! I'm not working on a Saturday. I'll call on Monday."

Trey continued to whine.

I tapped his nose with my finger, "Your auntie does not need green legs. She's beautiful the way she is."

Trey whined. He shook his head and lifted up his shirt. Sure enough he had colored in his appendectomy scar green too. I pulled the shirt down and told him, "Why don't you go color on Uncle Hoot?"

Trey shook his head, "No. He's not home."

He's not home?

"He went out already?"

Again, Trey shook his head. "Nooooo. Gone all night. Uncle Jeff said he's out on a booty call."

Angela whipped her head around at the mention. Eyebrows rose.

I just had to ask.

"Did Uncle Jeff tell you what a booty call was?" Being fiveish…I wasn't sure how old he was. But Trey loved the word, **Why**. That and **No**.

Trey nodded, "Uh-huh. He wanted a piece of ass."

Oh, so he told Trey.

That was wonderful.

Angela was not happy. She gave me a look of daggers and vileness. "I'm gonna have to call you back." At that she turned the **off ** button on the phone and looked to me and Trey. Looking more pleasant, "Trey, sweetheart. You go tell Uncle Jeff that if he wants to keep his marbles, he'll stop giving you complete answers. Ok?"

Nodding excitedly, Trey swung his feet as I set him down and off he went. He had a job to do from his favorite relative.

Annoyed, Angela looked to me, "And what's _your_ problem?"

She was moody. She was so amusing when she was irritated. I stepped up to her until she was backed against the washing machine. Not once did she take her eyes away from mine.

She was really irritated.

My fingers found the bottom of her shorts.

I moved even closer until I was pressed against her. Papers in hand I asked, "Randy got his paperwork. Since when do you want to be a mother? I thought you didn't want kids."

She scrunched her face.

Uncomfortable.

Her eyes darted around behind me. Quietly she whispered, "I don't want my own kid."

So she didn't want to give birth, again.

"Do you want to adopt then?"

Quickly she nodded, her cheeks flushed as if she were embarrassed. She licked her lips and sagged against the washing machine. There was a huge difference in standing against something and sagging against it. Suddenly she was even shorter then before, an inch or two more.

I closed the lid of the washer and it kicked on.

"That's fine. There's nothing wrong with that. A lot of people adopt."

She was fidgeting.

There was something she wasn't telling me that she was trying to tell me. She never got to say it. A voice came behind me, "Master Sergeant Gordon?"

Not surprised, more annoyed, I looked over my shoulder as Angela tried to hide behind me. She was doing a mighty fine job too.

"Yes Sir," I asked my boss.

With his business face he told me, "I need to speak with you both. ASAP. Get dressed, both of you and come down to my office."

There was a pause.

Then he asked, "Is my wife in residence here?"

Yes she was. I pointed towards the living room, "She's in there with Randy."

We both watched him walk out and I sagged against Angela, knowing what it was about. She immediately began to tell me, "I didn't do anything. I swear. I just went to a dinner with Sanderson to make his cousin jealous. It was nothing more then a dinner."

What?

I cocked an eyebrow at her and smoothed my hands over her hair. Which was pulled back in a messy ponytail. I kissed her forehead, "Sweetie. It's not about Sanderson."

She seemed confused. Her brown eyes narrowed and she began to ask. I didn't want to answer her question so I kissed her.

**Colonel's Office…**

I had sat in front of Colonel Monroe's desk many times. But never with my wife nervously at my side. She swung her flip-flop covered feet nervously while she cracked her fingers, repeatedly.

Until I reached over and took her hand in mine. It irritated me. Not the noise but the end result. She knew it irritated me so she stopped. She only did it when she was nervous.

When the colonel stepped in his office her hand squeezed mine.

She was terrified.

The colonel noticed that I held her hand in my lap. But he didn't say anything. Instead he dropped down in his chair and held a picture up. I knew who was on the picture.

He asked my wife, "Do you know who this man is?"

It was the prince who was seeking her for a commission. She looked at it and nodded, "Yeah. That's Dezi. He buys art from me. I met him in Paris a year ago…why, am I in trouble?"

The colonel put the picture down and picked up a different one. He showed it to us. It was the brother and cousin, the naughty boys. "What about these to men?"

Angela shook her head, "No."

She then looked at me.

I rubbed the back of her hand in a hope to calm her down. It wasn't working. Finally she asked, "Am I in trouble Sir?"

The colonel shook his head, "Not at all Mrs. Gordon. In fact, quite the opposite."

Again, she looked to me.

I remained silent.

Less then pleased.

But I held her hand.

She then looked to the colonel who told her, "Ma'am, the prince, Dezi, has been attempting to get in touch with you for work related reasons."

To my surprise, as well as the colonels, she shrugged, "He's been in touch with me for a while now."

I blinked.

Colonel Monroe leant across his desk, "He hasn't called the gallery you're based out of."

Angela didn't seem surprised, "He wouldn't. He isn't a fan of Holly so he calls my cell phone."

This was news to the colonel. I guess he didn't know she had one of those. Angela looked between us, clearly confused. "Why? Is there something wrong? What's going on?"

Before I could say anything, the colonel spoke up, "What have you two been talking about?"

Clearly confused she sputtered, "What?"

"Why has he been in contact with you?"

"Oh," she chirped, then leant back in her seat and was more at ease. More comfortable when she knew what was going on, somewhat. "He's moving from Riyadh to Zurich and wants me to paint some pieces for his new mansion. He just bought a house in Switzerland and wants me to come to his home in Riyadh to get inspired. He wants some sort of theme to keep his culture and roots while in Europe. Especially for his children."

I could almost see the disbelief on the colonel's face. All the spying he had done and it was all-worthless. Had it been concerning anyone but Angela and I would have been laughing.

"When are you leaving?"

Angela made her _I have no Earthly idea_ face. I was familiar with that face. "I have no honest idea. He just bought the house. He has to settle things in Riyadh before moving. He told me he would call when he gets things in order."

The colonel looked a little annoyed.

He chewed on his bottom lip and his office door opened. No one had knocked or anything. Never mind that the door was closed. Wisely this person immediately began to speak, "Colonel, Charlie Gomez from Alpha Team was just arrested."

I knew Charlie.

Charlie was more patient then Buddha. The best explosive's guy I had ever met.

The colonel was vocally outraged. "What the hell for? Is he in civilian custody?"

"Yes sir. From the report's over the police scanner he's just been taken into custody. The fight took place outside a movie theater. He was apparently mugged when taking his date out. He fought back and seriously injured one assailant while another escaped."

That seemed a little too familiar.

Angela looked to me with the same thought on her mind.

Even more outraged, the colonel demanded, "They arrested him for **_what _** reason?"

"I don't know sir. From what I gather listening over the radio, he seriously injured the man. They mentioned something about battery. Maybe something along the lines of unnecessary force? I don't know."

The colonel wasted no time as he reached for the phone, "I'll start making phone calls. Have a lawyer meet them down there. Also call CID and let them know, they think all these muggings are related to the Arsonist."


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

I was utterly confused.

First off, I didn't quite understand what the colonel's fascination with Dezi was, or how he had no idea that I had a cell phone. If he wanted to know about my work all he had to do was ask. It wasn't a secret. But, guys liked to do things the hard way.

I guess it made them happy. Who knew?

Then, Gordon was all pissy.

While he was a man of many moods, I had no earthly idea why he was brooding. His pissitivity level had reached an impressive 15 on a scale of one to ten, and had just continued to rise on the way home.

At home, the phone had been ringing and he walked right by it. Ignoring it.

I for one was grateful he did so.

When in one of his moods it was best to let him go off. He'd go brew for a while. Then he'd either go to the gym or range and come home after a few hours perfectly fine.

I dropped my purse on the couch and picked up the phone, "Yes?"

"Oh My God! Girl where have you been! I've been callin for the past damn hour!"

It was Hoot.

Perplexed I leant against the wall, "Out. What's up? How's the booty?"

"Girl! Don't start wit me. Now just so ain't the time. I need you an you alone to come pick me up…an bring me some clothes."

I laughed and Hoot made ssshhing noises.

While I tried not to laugh too hard, I asked, "Would you like to talk to Gordon?"

"HELL NO! I ain't never gonna hear the end'a this!"

Gordon peeked from the hall, "Who is it?"

_Hoot_ I mouthed.

A look of pure annoyance passed over Gordon's already moody face. "You tell that deep fried dip-shit to get his Cajun ass back on base. The colonel's on a roll."

There was no need for me to relay the message to Hoot.

Hoot had already heard it.

In response, Hot told me, "You can tell your husband not to take that tone with me! I ain't his damn wife! An I cain't be Cajun an deep fried at the same damn time!"

Gym bag in hand, Gordon emerged from the hall.

Sure footed he came over and took the phone from me and turned it off. Simply telling me while he chucked the phone onto the couch. "I'm going to the gym. Randy's taken the boys to the pool for a swimming lesson and Sanderson ran out to Home Depot for more Drano."

Unsure whether to be amused at the moodiness, I watched him intently.

He finally looked to me.

"I might have to run off base."

He nodded and softly kissed me, "Be careful then. I'll be back in a few hours."

I watched him stroll out as the phone began to ring again.

Only when he was out the door did I run over and answer the phone, yet again, "Yes Hoot?"

Clearly insulted he spat, "_Did your husband hang up me?_"

I dug through my purse for something to write with and on. "Uh-huh. He is a little moody right now...Ok, where are you?"

There was a pause.

Then he cleared his throat, "That is a damn good question."

Oh dear God.

I sat down on the edge of the couch, "Well, where's your bike? I'll go pick that up."

Again, he hesitated, "I wish I knew."

So, I slid over the edge and plopped down on the sage colored couch that matched the room's theme of an English Garden.

Something stabbed me in the waist. I reached down and pulled a G.I. Joe from the cushion. Perfect. Annoyed I chucked it across the room. Then asked, "What do you see around you?"

"I'm in'a apartment buildin."

Of course he was. My mind went to work and I told him, "Look for bills. Something with an address. Can you do that?"

"_Yes! I can!_ Hold on…"

Boy, he was moody too. Maybe they all had male PMS?

Finally I heard a squeal of joy and he read me an address that was in a shady area of town.

Then he asked, "Don't forget my pants, shirt, an shoes. A'ight?"


	16. Chapter 16

**16.**

I pulled my Explorer into a parking spot of a apartment building and was utterly amazed at Hoot's ability to find himself in the worst possible part of town imaginable, off base too.

The man had talent.

Rather glad I had left my purse at home. I grabbed the canvas bag of clothes and dropped my keys in my Jean's pocket. Locked the doors and hurried across the parking lot full of beaten and rusted cars.

The concrete was all cracked with weeds growing up from the sizable holes.

The apartment building was covered with graffiti.

I was so not impressed.

When I walked past three rather big and burly white men who looked at me like a piece of meat, I hurried up and went in the old brick building. Their gazes followed me.

Hoot was so getting an earful when I found him.

That though vanished when I stepped in the landing. First off, there was a stench of urine in the building. The mailboxes on the wall were covered with graffiti or had the doors ripped off. There was a homeless looking man passed out on the floor in front of the steps…or dead.

I wasn't touching him.

I was so not making humanitarian of the year.

So I stepped over him and walked up the steps. The steps being so filthy they crunched under my slip-ons. Which were getting thrown out once I got in the Explorer.

Then, on the third flight I stepped on a condom. I had to take my damn shoe off and rub against the old orange painted drywall to get off.

My foot was so going up Hoot's ass.

The fourth floor had the pungent smell of marijuana.

When I was at the fifth and correct floor, the screams of a domestic floated down the hall. Sounds that reminded me of childhood.

I hurried down the dark hall until I found the door with 5H. I didn't knock. There was no way I was touching the door.

I kicked it and yelled, "Hoot! You owe me!"

A moment passed and the door opened. Hoot, with nothing more then a pillow covering him ushered me in. I stayed in the hall and thrust the canvas bag at him, "Lets go."

He grabbed the bag quickly and I turned around, not wanting to see his man parts. Or be close while he was without clothes. He felt too much like a brother I never had…it would have been a little too weird, even for me.

Instead, I stood in the dingy hall and listened to some woman get the living hell beaten out of her. I could hear the fighting clear as day. I could hear furniture scraping on the floor. I heard glass breaking. I heard his grunts and her screams, her pleading and his swearing.

It was all so nostalgic.

I was aware that my heartbeat had kicked up and I could feel it in my ears. Hotness had spread throughout me, a long forgotten sensation. It was fear and adrenaline.

Why it was coming back was a mystery.

I wasn't getting beaten. It wasn't my problem. That was the correct thing to do, ignore it, like everyone had done for me. Ignore it, eventually he'll stop.

I didn't have my purse so I couldn't call the police.

So I stayed where I stood, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

Then I heard alien words through the paper-thin walls. I heard the sounds of violence and three words that I told Gordon all the time. Three simple little words.

_I love you._

They ripped me out of my trance and into reality, into complete disbelief. I heard the female tell the male, who was giving her a pretty good fight, probably a seven on a scale of one to ten, I heard her tell him he loved her. It was between screams so it could have been coerced…I just didn't believe that for one minute.

Three little words I hadn't heard till I was out on my own. A runaway. They had never been uttered from my lips before that point.

"A'ight, lets go," came from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder at Hoot as he closed the door.

He looked to me and noticed the fighting couple. His dark eyes darkened even more, with a shrug he told me, "They've been goin at it for bout an hour now."

It was then realization crossed his face.

Thank God the look of pity didn't follow.

Their apartment door opened, it slammed against the wall and out came a man maybe weighing a hundred pounds. Wiry and bouncing on the fronts of his feet. He yelled at the woman in the apartment.

Her sobs were silenced when he slammed the door.

Such a loving couple.

The man turned and looked at the two of us. Obviously ready for a fight, I could see it in his eyes. He was in the mood for anyone to mouth off at him. At the sight of Hoot that fire in his eyes dwindled.

No longer so eager to fight.

Hoot took my hand in his and simply walked down the hall. Past the man as if the man was beneath him. The man watched Hoot warily and even backed up towards the door, giving us plenty of room and then some to walk past him.

**Outside the building…**

"Where's the car?"

Hoot had a very good question. For a man who had just stared down the husband of the year, I wanted to give him a good answer. But I couldn't. I looked around at the place I had parked it.

I looked around in utter disbelief.

The explorer was gone.

I looked to Hoot, "Gone. Someone stole it."

He looked to me with that face of his, "You fuckin serious?"

I gave him a look that dared him to say something. Then I put my hands on my jeans and sighed. We had to find a phone.

A smart comment came to mind, "No. I'm making it up because it sounds so good, Hoot."

The man smiled!

A smile crossed his face and I just gawked at him, "_**What** are you grinning at?_"

Now was so not the time for his games.

Hoot just shook his head, "Nothin girl. Come on, we need ta find a phone to get a ride."


	17. Chapter 17

**17. **

**Gordon**

I was busy.

I had finished doing some weight training. I was tired of boxing. I either needed to hop in the pool or maybe go for a nice five-mile run.

I was still pissed off.

I needed to burn that energy off. It needed to be spent and vanish. That little inner Gordon, the little green monster and every last childish part of me that comprised of inner Gordon needed to be worn out.

I was torn between activities when my beeper buzzed on my hip.

A number I didn't recognize flashed.

Who the hell was that?

The area code was local.

Not exactly thrilled, I went to find a phone.

Not thrilled with the colonel.

Not thrilled with prince whatever Angela had called him's relatives.

Not thrilled with the sudden blurred line of what could be my next job, a job that could include my wife in some way.

I just wasn't thrilled.

An unknown number did not add sun to my day.

I found the phone by the front and simply grabbed it. The lady behind the desk didn't argue with me.

I punched in the numbers and pushed my damp hair back. It did what it wanted most the time. While the phone rang I traced my thumb over the gold woven wedding band. A ring I got to wear rarely. Only at home. Not training. The gym didn't count.

On the third ring Angela picked up, "Gordon?"

What the hell was wrong?

"What's going on? Where are you?"

There was a pause.

I could hear Hoot in the background, "Is it him?"

She ssshhed him.

"Yeah, look…sweetie. The Explorer was stolen."

She had to be joking.

Then something clicked. Why was Hoot with her? Where was the Explorer stolen from? I sensed some sort of trickery from Hoot and I wasn't even standing there with the man. What the hell had he done with _my_ wife?

I really had to work on that _my_ stuff.

She didn't belong to me. She wasn't property…but, it was inner Gordon.

"Where are you?"

Then she told me.

"We are on the corner of 53rd and Lincoln. At the Gas'N'Go. The one covered in graffiti? You know that one?"

I was well aware of that one.

My temper flared. I wanted to scream and demand what she was doing there. Inner Gordon had not been sated yet. Instead, I took a deep breath. A really deep breath. I counted to ten. Then I hissed, stressing the why, "_**Why** are you there?_ Wait. Don't answer that. Put Hoot on the phone."

He had to be behind this mess.

She hesitated.

Then she asked, "Will you still come and pick us up if I do?"

It was like someone had thrown cold water on me.

Inner Gordon shut up.

There would never be a day I ever didn't do a thing she didn't ask. Something so important especially. She knew that. Or she should have known that. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she quickly told me, "Here's Hoot."

Before I could stop myself I told her, "I love you." I was testing her and I knew it.

She didn't say it back.

She told me, "Ok."

Then came sounds of the phone being handed off followed by Hoot, "Yo?"

Inner Gordon was back.

"_What the hell did you do to **my** wife!_"

To which he so eloquently replied with, "G, I ain't done nothin."

Then I asked the world's stupidest question, "Did you hit her?"

Hoot hung up on me.


	18. Chapter 18

**18. **

Hoot slammed the pay phone down more then a little pissed off. As he punched in three simple numbers he pointed to me, "Your husband is a asshole!"

Oh well, I didn't know that.

I blinked and watched as he gripped the phone in such a way the muscles in his arms flexed. He was squeezing the hell out of the phone. Then he barked in the receiver, southern twang long gone. No hint of any accent. No hint of any use of slang or unknown verbage. "Yes. I am down off 51st in the Palace Park apartments and the people up in 5J are fighting again. You need to get a unit down there. He's going to kill the woman."

Then he slammed the phone down in the booth, waited, and then lifted it off the receiver and punched in the same three numbers. Accent back, he informed the phone, "Yeah, my car was stolen. I need'a ride an a cop to report the damn thing."

At that I sighed and looked out at the scenery.

Pondering why someone would steal a Ford Explorer. It didn't make sense. It wasn't fast or spiffy car. Plus the inside had paint stains all over the floor. There was an unidentifiable stain on the passenger seat and the smell of chili filled the truck.

But, beauty was on the eye of the beholder.

Once done Hoot slammed the receiver down and dialed another number. A 10-digit number. Accent in place he spoke less angry, "This is Hoot. Put me through to Glenda."

There was a pause as he leant lazily against the phone booth.

I had no idea who Glenda was.

"Yeah, Glenda, it's Hoot. G's Explorer was stolen. Pass that along to the gates to make sure no one tries to get on with the vehicle. Then I'm deserted at my present location plus one dependant with the local 5-0 in route. Do whatever accordingly, oh, make sure G don't leave the nest. Don't need the locals getting smart."

Then it hit me.

He was speaking with the office.

Oddly calm, he seemed relaxed, as if he were talking to a long-term friend. With a nod he spoke into the black piece of plastic, "Copy that. Will wait here with number two." At that he hung up the phone and looked to me. We both heard the sirens in the distance. I didn't say a word and he didn't ask.

Instead he stepped over towards me and surveyed the majestic scenery. Having already taken in the parking lot, gas station, and adult superstore next door I looked to Hoot who was obviously having a tift with my husband.

Hoot would rather cut off his own foot then deal with local authorities.

"Don't look at me like that baby-girl. Your husband started it."

Oh dear God.

I covered my face with my hands.

The last time they had gotten pissy with one another it had lasted two weeks. Two weeks of testosterone and none stop finger flipping.

I couldn't deal with that again.

His arm hooked around my shoulders and pulled me close. So I asked Hoot, who attended church on occasion. "Doesn't Jesus say you're supposed to forgive people?"

"Jesus ain't never met your husband," was what he told me.

I pulled my hands away from my face and looked up at Mr. Peace-Love-and-Understanding. He was remarkable. He then informed me, "I ain't got my wallet."

Oh yeah.

Neither did I. How were we supposed to prove our story to the police? I pursed my lips, "This might be a problem."

His dark eyebrows rose, "Ya think?"

Jesus, I needed a vacation.

I let my head fall back in my hands and waited for the cops to come. Not only did I have to deal with them. I was going to have to deal with my husband. That was just going to be super fun.

**hours later…**

Bureaucracy sucked.

The many men in my life were pissing me off.

Work was getting annoying.

I needed a vacation. I had reached this conclusion whilst I sat my unhappy ass next to Mr. Peace-Love-and-Understanding while our identities were confirmed. By the time I had the report of my stolen vehicle complete I had decided I needed to go to an island.

I didn't care what island. Really I didn't. I needed to see the ocean. I needed to see pretty water.

That's what I thought about all the way to the base, on base, and towards our home in the back of the Colonel's work car. Hoot at my side. However, when we pulled onto our street that thought was gone from my mind.

A house two houses down from ours was on fire.

I didn't mean there was a fire and a little smoke coming out the window. Oh no, the entire house was engulfed in flames.

It was Charlie's house.

The colonel sped up with little regard for the neighbors crowding around to help, already on his radio. When the car came to a stop Hoot and I slid out of the backseat. We pushed through the crowd of women, children, and a handful of guys.

Hoot looked to me, "How many kids does Charlie have?"

"Three. But two are in school on base here." I would have told him more. Like the other kids name, the wife's name. But when I spotted Gordon climb in a window that was broken, a window that had smoke billowing out. I pointed.

Hoot looked and wordlessly ran toward the window.

Whatever he and Gordon had been fighting over was forgotten. Within a matter of seconds he was through the window without any hesitation.

My heart picked up a few extra beats per second.

I ran back to the car.

To the colonel and told him, "Tell them to hurry! Gordon and Hoot went in there."

The man paled. Literally.

His eyes looked back to the house.

Then it got worse.

Charlie came through the crowd.

At the sight of his home ablaze his face contorted in a mix of emotions. So many I could not pick one from another. As he headed for his home I ran to him and grabbed his arm. "No Charlie. Gordon and Hoot are in there."

He wasn't listening.

He tried to shove me off. He tried to push me away but I didn't let go of his hand until the colonel had his other. It was then I looked back to the flaming house for some sign of my husband. For a sign of Hoot. But the crowd had grown even larger and the fire even hotter. I could feel it against my skin.

I pushed my way through the crowd.

I needed to see the house.

I needed to keep an eye out for Gordon and Hoot.

The fear and panic made my heart swell even more. It picked up a few more beats and coldness crept through me. Where were they?

The sight of a denim encased leg pop through the window it had entered the house in came and it was then I started to cry for no reason. It was then people from the crowd ran over to help.


	19. Chapter 19

**19.**

Gordon sat on the back of an ambulance beside Hoot. Both men were hooked up to oxygen. A little singed. There were burns smudged with black ash on various parts of exposed skin.

Both men had blankets wrapped around them.

They had to take off their clothes that had been smoking and apparently both men had decided to go commando that day.

They tried to tell the people in the ambulance that they had held their breath. That they didn't breath in any of the smoke. They were not believed. For which I was grateful. I didn't want either man to drop dead.

At the sight of me they lowered the cups they held over their mouths. Both asked how Charlie's wife and newborn were. The paramedic yelled at them and the cups covered their mouths again.

For their size they were very obedient.

I walked over to Gordon and looked him over. "On the way to the hospital. Charlie went too. Is she ok? She wasn't moving when you put her through the window."

Gordon lifted the cup, "She had been drugged or hit up-side the head. She was out like a light on the floor when we found her." Then the cup was back in place before he got another look from the paramedic as she adjusted his airflow.

Hoot checked her out.

"CID is here," I told them.

I had their full attention.

Hoot stood up and looked ready to bolt for the house in the blanket. The paramedic shoved him back down by his shoulders and scolded, "Sir. I am not going to tell you again. You need pure oxygen or you're going to the ER."

He pulled the cup off to talk and she put it back, "Sir. I am serious."

I reached out and gently touched Gordon's temple. It was turning a lovely shade of purple. His skin was gritty from ash and I didn't care.

_Are you ok_ I mouthed.

With the slightest motion he nodded.

It would have been easily missed if someone didn't know what to look for. But I knew. I could read him like a book. I traced my fingers across his flushed cheek and wiped some ash off.

His striking blue eyes watched me intently.

Beside him Hoot leapt to his feet and attempted to fix the blanket to look like some sort of skirt Tarzan would wear. The woman was about to loose her mind, the cup in hand while she yelled for her fellow paramedic who was treating someone for a burn.

Gordon's eyes looked past me for a minute.

Then I heard a voice, "Master Sergeant. Gordon? Sergeant Gibson?"

I turned and saw one of the two men from CID. The one who was mere feet away was the older one. In his late fifties. A full head of grey hair and a potbelly. Dressed in some hideous suit that went out of fashion in the 1980's. He flashed a badge, "I'm with CID. Dick Gagnon. I'm going to ask you a few questions and expect full and complete cooperation."

I was not overly impressed with him. He looked rumpled. Unprofessional.

Gordon's knee bumped my leg.

I glanced back at him and he scooted over. I took the hint and sat down beside him. I tried not to notice the extremely unhappy colonel arguing with the other CID agent. The words "security" "my men" and "your ass" came up more then once and I guessed that the CID men knew exactly what Gordon, Hoot, and Charlie did while at work. Apparently the colonel was not pleased with their coming across this sensitive information.

Gordon reached out and stood up. Towering over the pudgy man by a good six inches. He'd put himself between me and Mr. Gagnon, strategically I was certain.

"Master Sergeant Gordon. What can I do for you sir?"

"You and Sergeant Gibson entered the house together?"

"Yes sir."

"You found Mrs. Gomez and her child?"

"Yes sir."

"Where were they?"

Hoot sat back down on the ambulance and put the cup back on his face. Not a happy camper.

"Mrs. Gomez was on the floor of her living room behind the couch. Her hands were bound behind her with duct-tape. The infant was in its playpen a few feet away."

I had the sudden urge to peek around Gordon to see what the CID man was doing. But I didn't. Gordon was hiding me for a reason. So I stayed still and listened.

"Did you happen to see any signs of a struggle."

"I was not looking for signs of a struggle sir. I was looking for Mrs. Gomez and her child. Once we found them we left the house."

That sounded logical to me.

Mr. Gagnon made a noise that did not make me happy. A similar expression crossed Hoot's face.

"Did either of you bother to look around to see if anyone else was in the house?"

Gordon's body language was relaxed.

It looked like he could have been speaking with me. His tone was equally bland of any emotion. "No sir. Mrs. Gomez is home alone with her infant and the other children are not due to arrive home for another hour or so. I'm not a fireman. I knew she was in there and I went to retrieve her. Had I come across someone else, I would have brought them out, but I did not and that is all I have to say about that."

Gagnon turned to Hoot, why. I had no clue.

"Sergeant Gibson, did you see anyone else in the house that the Master Sergeant may have overlooked?"

He lifted the cup and eloquently told Mr. Gagnon, "Ditto what the Master Sergeant said sir."

I was already not liking the man and I didn't even know him. I could see the utter contempt for the man on Hoot's face. He really stunk at hiding things. He'd get better at it like Gordon did.

Hoot snapped the cup back on his face and crossed his arms. The language screamed that he was done being helpful.

"Where were the both of you when this occurred?"

My eyebrows rose in surprise. Gordon and Hoot were not arsonists. A look of utter disgust filled Hoot's face and Gordon asked, "Why?"

The urge to peek around Gordon was strong.

It became even stronger when Gagnon said, "With your training you'd be more the able to…"

Hoot yanked the oxygen cup down.

I just had to peek around Gordon. The investigator was dead serious but had a smile on his face. As if that made everything ok. Gordon's hand swatted at me and I again had to hide. But he did manage to speak before Hoot could open his mouth, "You can talk to our lawyer about that."

Hoot snapped the cup back over his nose and mouth, adjusting it with his finger. The middle finger. Hatred just blazing in his dark eyes.

I peeked around Gordon again.

The investigator looked at Gordon with surprise and then turned and headed to the other CID Investigator who was speaking with the colonel.


	20. Chapter 20

**20.**

While the colonel and Gagnon yelled at one another, arms flailing and such. Both men incensed at the others complete lack of respect, and Hoot's; the other CID Investigator came on over.

I was guessing that Gordon didn't mind him because he sat down on the back of the ambulance between Hoot and me.

He had near identical statue as Gagnon. Grey hair and a suit. A clean and pressed suit that distributed his weight as good suits did. But, he carried himself differently. He was a complete opposite even though physically they were different.

He didn't ask for names.

He didn't give his name.

Instead he asked, "What do you two boys think? Your professional opinions? Anything that stuck out?"

I liked him.

Gordon and Hoot shared a look and Hoot told the investigator, "Yeah. Whoever is doin these fires is around planes. Maybe part'a Pope next door. Airport maybe? I smelled jet fuel inside the house."

The investigator pulled a pen from his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper from in the ambulance. He took a note of what Hoot told him.

Hoot added, "Is a professional of some sort. Either fireman or one'a us."

The investigator raised his eyebrows.

"The walls were on fire. The walls an the ceilin an furniture an carpet. Whoever did it knew to do the foundation and soak the harder stuff in fuel. It ain't any amateur. The whole damn house was on fire."

"Explosives expert?"

Hoot shook his head, "Nope. Fire is a thing a beauty. He want his fire to consume. Demo-Nuts are different from Pyro's."

How Hoot knew this was a mystery to me. Maybe he learned it on Court TV. I doubted it though.

"Former military?"

Hoot shook his head and looked to Gordon who made a face. "It didn't feel that professional. A wannabe maybe. Someone who studied about our training or a heard about the training from someone else. There's an accomplice. Someone on Pope or from here is helping him."

Again, the investigator did not ask aloud, he raised his eyebrows for further explanation. Which Gordon shared. "I spoke to Charlie on my way out of the gym. He'd told me the wife had brought the baby home from daycare. The baby had a fever and she was stopping at the commissary for baby Tylenol. She wasn't supposed to be home today. All the other houses were set on fire empty. Plus Charlie had just left for the gym which takes a good three hours out of his day."

With some mighty fast writing on the back of what appeared to be a medical chart.

Then he asked, "Any chatter through your community? Theories? Suspicions? Anything anyone has thought of that could be helpful to us? Anonymous of course."

Of course.

Hoot and Gordon shared a look. Both their thinking faces were on, trying very hard to remember. They had similar expressions when they were trying to remember scores from football games.

A light bulb clicked on above Hoot's head.

"Somebody may have theorized that since everyone'a the fire victims is from a different company, unit, yada yada yada; these fires might be aimed at someone higher. Tryin to make someone look bad. Cause there ain't no pattern no where else."  
"Like revenge?" Mr. Investigator asked.

Hoot nodded, "Somethin like that. What else is gonna look more bad than a arsonist no one can catch, figure out, or stop from runnin around settin ablaze to our homes?"


	21. Chapter 21

**17. **

**Gordon**

I was still pissed at Hoot but had bigger problems to worry about. For one, the house burnt to a crisp a few doors down. Buying a new car that had been stolen since Angela refused to set foot on a car lot.

We got back to the house around the same time as Sanderson. Who looked down the street at the fire engines and massive crowd. He then looked to Hoot and demanded, "What did you do?"

Hoot spat something in his defense.

I wasn't listening.

I was distracted.

There were little puddles of footprints running up the driveway and into the house. I looked at Angela who made a face, "Swimming Lessons must be over."

Oh yeah, swimming lessons.

She followed me through the garage where three swimming trunks and a dozen float devices were left. The wet trunks had been tossed in the washer while the toys were scattered all over the cement floor.

I opened the door and held it open for Angela. I followed her in and followed the footprints into the kitchen.

Randy was making lunch.

Beanie Weenie.

The twins were helping. While Troy swept the puddles of water up with a broom Trey held the dustpan.

"Gordon, could I borrow your wife?"

Angela continued through the kitchen and laughed, heading on into the house. I peeked down at the beanie weenie. It was edible and I was hungry. "Maybe. What for?"

Randy continued to stir lunch. "A few spots opened up at the Kindergarten and I want to enroll the boys on base. I want Angela to sign her name down so she can pick them up and stuff whenever I'm not here. I'll have her back by dinner."

With deft fingers I plucked a piece of hotdog from the pot.

Then went to the fridge in search of a Coke, "Sure."

The garage door swung open and Sanderson's head peeked in, "Gordon…you need to come out here."

I was in no mood.

I found a Coke, opened it, and took a nice long sip. Then kicked the door shut and strolled over. "What?"  
Sanderson thrust his finger into the garage, "Someone was on the roof."

**The Roof…**

There were scuffmarks on my house and shingles were disrupted. Someone had been on my roof and they weren't even subtle about it. Sure, they had tried to cover their tracks.

I use the word _tried_ generously.

Amateur.

They had no idea how to hide. No clue how to do recon work. No clue at all. Hoot, Sanderson, and I walked around the roof and noticed feet marks. We found where someone had been seated. Then we found some hair.

Hoot pointed out a round spot, "What's that?"

I looked.

It was near where the person, a male by the weight disturbance in the roof and shape of the area he had been laying on, had been for an extended amount of time. Five hours give or take.

I walked over and examined the spot.

Smelled it.

And peeked over to where it would have run off the roof.

Whoever had been on my roof had never been trained. Or hadn't received good training. Hoot watched me. I told him, "It's urine. He's definitely not a professional sniper. Or spotter."

If so he would have gone in a bottle and brought it with him to avoid leaving evidence.

"What the hell was he doing up here?"

I guess for Sanderson, "He was watching before and during the fire. Probably earlier when the house was empty. Or we would have heard him up here." It was a perfect spot for watching the fire.

Sanderson stepped up to where the man would have been lying. He lined up the line of sight, "It's perfect for viewing. If he's a true arsonist he'll want to watch his fire. But, what if a bird came over?"

That would have been a problem. He apparently wasn't even a smart criminal.

Hoot pointed, "G."

Sanderson and I both looked and saw my wife on the ground looking up from the backyard. Our six by six patch of dead grass. She watched us with curious eyes, "It's a little early for Christmas Lights sweetie."

Indeed it was.

Sanderson stepped out of her line of sight.

I called down to her, "Sweetie. Could you do me a favor and see if that CID guy, not the jackass, is still at the scene?"

From on the roof I could see her eyes narrow. She didn't ask. She just gave me a nod, "Ok."


	22. Chapter 22

**22. **

Stephanie was the Kindergarten teacher and she did not really want Trey or Troy in the two open slots in her class. Not because she didn't like them or anything like that, oh no. She told us after speaking with both boys that they were, and I quote, "Advanced for their ages. They can count up to one hundred and had basic reading skills. They could very well be moved up to first grade and excel."

Randy would not hear of it.

Seated beside me on a little kindergarten chair, our knees practically touched our chins. He shook his head, "No. I want them in Kindergarten. I skipped grades and don't want them to. Plus, they need to be broken into school. They've never been in school or daycare before and First Grade might be a shock to their systems."

Stephanie turned her brown eyes on the twins, who had their eyes glued to a hamster in its Plexiglas box.

Then she looked back at the two of us.

Randy was not budging on the Kindergarten vs. First Grade Debate and the three of us knew it.

Then she asked, "Are you sure you want them both in the same class?"

"Absolutely."  
It was great watching Randy.

I hadn't had to say a word for the entire meeting other then that I was the Godmother. Therefore I apparently needed to know the teacher.

"Some parents like to have their twins separated in order for them to get their own social skills and not rely on the other."

Again, Randy shook his head, "Nope. My boys have two different personalities. Troy doesn't have any problem making friends on his own and Trey is more shy then his brother. Even at home they do their own thing a lot of the time. Plus, I need them to be doing the same thing for homework."

The twenty-something year old teacher looked to me and I nodded. What Randy was saying could have been in French. I would have nodded no matter what. Plus, it would be nice having the two twins having the same homework.

She then looked back to Trey and Troy.

"Is their mother in the picture?"

"No," Randy told her.

Her eyes found Randy's, "You're a single father?"

"I have help." He told her with no elaboration other then that. Randy could be a pain in the butt without even trying. He did it subtly. He turned it into an art form.

"Well…I'll be happy to have them both in class here with me." She handed Randy a sheet of paper and I peeked over his broad shoulder to see a supply list. "Those are what they'll need come Monday. They will need to have a packed lunch or lunch money. Then an afternoon snack. I would prefer something healthy. No candy."

I took the paper from Randy who nodded, "Yes ma'am. They'll have everything on that list."

"I take it they are already registered?"

"Yes ma'am," he told her.

She gave him another sheet of paper, "Are they riding the bus?"

"No," he told her. Then he pointed to me never taking his hazel eyes from the paper. "When I am not home, Angela has offered to drop them off at school and pick them up."

I peeked over his shoulder to see what was on the piece of paper.

Troy and Trey came on over and took the supply list from me. Curious to see what we were up to.

The paper Randy had was a list of classroom rules. One of which included no swearing or obscene language. We would definitely have to get the twins to understand that one. Though, I didn't know if booty-call was considered obscene? Oh the big questions in life.

Before I could really look over the list the cell phone in my back pocket buzzed. I jumped and pulled it out, saw the number, and patted Randy's arm. "I'll be right back."

He nodded and Troy hopped in my chair to sit beside his father.

Trey followed me out of the classroom.

I made sure he didn't get any fingers stuck in the door. Once out in the hall I answered my phone, "Hi Dezi."

A very refined English accent that was the result of British College came over the phone, pronouncing my name in the way he did, "Aun-ge-laa, I hope I have not caught you at a bad time?"

"No, no, not at all. Did you get everything worked out?"

Dezi gave me a laugh. A refined laugh but it was real, "Finally yes. I have sent you the measurements to the gallery of the rooms along with photo and video. I have also sent some clothing to dress in for your arrival in Riyadh."

Perfect, pretty much everything I had asked for concerning the new house he had purchased in Zurich.

Trey stood in front of me and watched. His brown eyes intent. He held his arms up at me. So I picked him up and bounced him onto my hip. Only then was he happy.

"I have enclosed a check as well for your airfare. I would suggest you bring a male escort. Husband or relative. For your safety. You will contact me once you get tickets and know dates?"

Trey poked at my ponytail and swung his feet.

"Of course Dezi. I'll swing by the office and pick up the package and then buy the tickets. I'll call you tomorrow on your cell?"

'Naturally. Oh, Aun-ge-laa? Would you kindly remember the time differences?"

I really had to work on that when doing work overseas.

"Yeah, sorry about that again."

He laughed and 'bid me farewell.'

I hung up and blew a strand of reddish hair from my face and looked to Trey. "Do you think Uncle Gordon, Hoot, and Jeff will be able to make dinner while we run an errand?"

Trey shook his head, "No."

I smiled and dialed up the house phone, "What if we give them specific instructions?"

Trey scrunched his face up and buried it in my arm, "I don't want anymore hotdogs!"

Ok.

I would have to give very specific instructions.


	23. Chapter 23

**23.**

**Gordon**

The wife had given Sanderson very specific instructions , which he regulated to me.

Brown the ground beef.

Go to the store and get mushrooms, celery, and fresh cherry tomatoes.

Keep Hoot away from the food. (There had been a Fatback fiasco where we were fed the mess on biscuits with honey. That was Hoot's last time cooking unsupervised.)

So I got job one and three, while Sanderson got two. The chili was to be simmering in chili form when my wife got home with Randy and the boys. There had to be something morally wrong with loaning my wife out to my friends. There just had to be.

That ethical debate was causing me much thought. So much so I didn't notice Hoot until he strolled to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Even then I noticed he was there and that was it.

When he complained he had my complete attention. It wasn't the whine in his voice but his words that got my attention.

"G…I want a wife."

Stirring the browning beef with a spatula I glanced over at him, "What?"

Beer in hand and unopened he restated his complaint.

It was as obscene as the first time.

"I decided I want a wife."

"You're not ready for a wife," I told him, looking back to the pot of half browned beef.

He pouted, "I am too!"

So I added, "Hoot. You're still having casual sex. You are not ready for monogamy."

The beer bottle ended up on the counter and he began to make his case. This was going to be really good.

"G. After spenden time with your wife. I could be a husband. I want a woman that cooks, does bills, pampers me an she does pamper you no matter what you think. I want a wife that don't ask questions and supports me, like Angela does for you. I need'a Angela. I want someone to take care of."

Oh God.

I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. "Hoot. You could not handle Angela. You need someone who will completely dominate you and order you around. You won't be happy until you meet someone who makes you their whipped toy. You need a challenge or you'll get bored. You can't be with an Angela."

I turned the hunk of meat over and scraped the browned part off.

"Uh-huh," he told me.

To which I shook my head. "No Hoot. Look man, you're like a brother to me. Ok? Remember this. Are you listening?"

Hoot nodded as I worked on the scraping.

"You need to fix things. There is nothing wrong with that, it's what you are like, if there is a problem you have to be there to fix it. It's a good thing. But women like Angela cannot be fixed. People that are destroyed need time to heal. They need time to rebuild. The foundation is still there and it a structure has to be rebuilt on their terms. You don't have the patience. You are a healthy man and need the challenge of a healthy, wild, female who thinks just as highly of themselves as you do."

Hoot was silent for a moment.

I stirred the beef around and then looked over at him.

He took what I had said and processed it. Then he went into left field as he used the kitchen counter to pop the top off his beer. "What's that make you?"

All the way out in left field.

"What?"

Hoot tossed the beer cap in the trash and looked to me, "If I'm a healthy male who needs to fix things, what does that make you? An unhealthy male? Who don't need to fix things?"

There was no way Hoot was letting me off. He was a pain in the ass. I shrugged and lifted the ground beef enough to peek at the bottom, "We're different."

Instead of dropping the subject. Like I dropped the beef back down to let it brown some more. He then inquired, "So. What makes you worthy of Angela?"

What made me worthy?

If he only knew how often I pondered that very question. Or the selfish answer I had reasoned out.

"I need to protect her to prove that I am better then what I ran away from. I have to prove to myself that I am not everything I'm terrified of turning into."

He thoughtfully sipped his beer.

I flipped over the hunk of beef and began to scrape away the cooked side.

"So…instead of workin through your shit…you gonna avoid it and concentrate your complete attention to the wife and work?"

That summed it up beautifully so I nodded.

"How's it workin?"

As I scraped I glanced at him, "Amazingly well."

He nibbled on the bottle. "Then…somehow, in the process of that healin, you got it bad for her?"

I shook my head, "Not until a few years ago. When she began to flourish. When everything was stable and the major **'healin'** was over."

Hoot sipped the beer again. Apparently he had a brain flash because he pointed the bottle at me, "That's why you wanted to remarry her? Cause you fell in love with her."

He was sounding like a damn romance novel.

Somehow he could read my damn mind and grinned, "That's so sweet."

"Do you have something you could be doing right now," I asked.

A stupid lop-sided grin crossed his face.

Then he added, "I still want a wife."


	24. Chapter 24

24.

**Later that night…**

I had been banished to the kitchen. Banished by all four grown men for some reason. The four of them could not decide what beer to buy on any given day, and yet, they could all send me packing to the bedroom.

Alone.

One would have thought that they had stronger stomachs. Apparently not. Apparently their ears were too sensitive to the sounds of me waxing my legs. Somehow it was unbearable to their ears. Especially Gordon, which was odd since he was extremely fond of my smooth legs.

After ripping a single strip off my calf I had been shipped across the house and behind a closed door while the four men watched "Full Metal Jacket." Watching it the way only men could. Awake for the first fifteen minutes, sleep through it, and wake up for the last fifteen minutes.

The four of them were utterly amazing.

After being banished for about an hour, I cruised down the hall of my home. Leg's freshly waxed and moisturized. I peeked in on the twins who were in their tent, unmoving.

Two sets of small feet lay perfectly still.

I then headed into the living room where all four of the boys were asleep. Not just asleep but snoring. Sanderson was sprawled out in the recliner chair. Beside him on the couch were both Hoot and my husband. Pillows formed a wall between the two men. I could only imagine why.

Then, on the floor, hands folded neatly behind his head was Randy, also sound asleep.

The four of them were truly amazing.

The watch on Gordon's wrist read 12:25. It was bedtime. Once I turned the VCR off the four of them would wake up. Knowing this I walked over to my husband and blew against the skin of his neck.

I knew better then to wake Gordon up from a sound sleep.

A few years ago I could have kicked him and he would wake up without a problem. Somewhere between then and now he started having nightmares. He woke up quickly and looking for something that was never there.

There was an art to waking him up and it had to be done gently.

I continued to blow softly on the skin of his neck. He shifted in his seat and made a soft noise.

Very quietly I whispered his name. Making sure I was out of reach incase he startled. He had never hurt me and I knew he never would. But when he woke too quickly there'd be a look in his eyes. A look reserved for people he really did not like. But I never wanted to be on the receiving end of such a look, therefore I made sure I never scared him when I woke him up.

Again, I whispered his name.

His blue eyes snapped open and scanned the semi-dark room. They looked around as he remained as still as death. He blinked. Then he looked at me and his entire posture loosened.

He relaxed.

"Hmmm?"

It was then I inched over to him and bumped his legs with my knee. I ran my fingers through his hair and spoke softly, "Lets go to bed. You're falling asleep."

Immediately he stated, "Am not. I was napping."

Napping. Snoring. I wasn't about to argue semantics. Especially with Hoot snoring mere inches away.

My fingers stroked the skin of his neck and his knee bumped my leg. Softly I told him, "Now…"

**Later on that night…**

There was something peaceful about watching him sleep. I had watched him sleep for hours on more then one occasion.

Curled up in a ball against his side I could watch him sleep. He lay flat on his front side where he had simply collapsed earlier. Gordon was like that afterward, he'd collapse and be incapable of coherent thought for at least ten minutes. I, however, had gotten up and put the clothes that had been thrown across the room in the hamper. I got the bed ready as best as I could with him on top of the sheets, unable to lift a limb.

Once I was somewhat happy with the bed and room, I crawled under the quilt and snuggled up against him. I watched him fall asleep. I had placed my hand over his back and felt his every breath and heartbeat.

It was extremely relaxing watching him at peace. Knowing that I could comfort another human being, especially one I loved unconditionally. I stayed that close for the better part of the night until I heard the pitter-patter of feet go by the bedroom door.

My first thought – Hoot or Troy was sneaking my Oreo's.

I sat up and pondered whether I should go and make sure they didn't find the cookie jar. Which I had re-hidden after replenishing it from the previous nighttime snack.

Then came another set of feet.

Probably Trey, I was willing to bet that Troy had woken his brother up and talked him into being a lookout. The boys were not being a good influence on the twins, well, unless you counted teamwork. The twins were learning that very well.

I was about to roll off the mattresses and find my robe, when a soft tapping began.

What they hell were the twins doing? How did they get out of the tent without waking Randy up?

I rolled onto my side and reached for the lamp that rested on the floor. Gordon's arm snatched out and looped around my waist. He pulled me up against him as the tapping continued. His lips brushed my ear, "Don't move."

How long had he been awake?

"Gordon…" I began.

His hand covered my lips and he made an ssshing noise against my ear. Only when the tapping stopped did he lift his hand, and that was only so he could tap against the wall.

I turned over. More then curious as to what the hell he was doing. I never got to ask, my husband, the mind reader, told me, "Stay here in bed. Someone is out prowling around the houses. He just went through the back yard."

This was news to me!

I stared up into his face even though it was dark in the bedroom. He pulled something from between the top of our bed and the wall, probably a gun of some kind.

"How do you know that?" He'd been in bed with me since I woke him up from his movie.

He continued his tapping on the wall.

Against my ear he whispered, "Morse Code."

Oh.

So it wasn't one of the twins outside the bedroom. I looked at the wall where the noise had come from more then a little curious.

He pulled a really big gun from the head of our bed and set it on the bed, across us, it was heavy.

Then he informed me, "Stay in the house. Some of the other guys are up too. I don't want you getting shot."

Me getting shot. I didn't want that either.

Gordon reached under the bed again and pulled out clothing, shorts actually. He pulled them on in bed while someone, whose frame resembled Randy quite closely approached our window and cut out the screen.

While Gordon got the shorts on Randy quickly popped the window's lock. The same lock the people at Home Depot assured me was burglar proof. Those lying bastards. Though…it may have been burglar proof just not Delta proof.

There was a huge difference.

Once again, Gordon told me, "Stay here and make sure the twins stay inside." He didn't even kiss me good-bye as he got out of bed and went to the newly unlocked window.


	25. Chapter 25

25.

A few hours later the boys returned fully dressed in civilian clothing. The four of them strolled in the front door as if they had been out for the evening. This was a shock to me.

Especially since I had last seen my husband and Randy skip out into the night, heavily armed, wearing pretty much beach attire, or something equally revealing.

The four of them strolled in oh so calmly.

Gordon in the lead as the leader of the troublemakers.

I watched with great curiosity.

"Sweetie, if anyone asks, we were playing poker all night. Like we do every time Jack is home. It's a boy's night out and we always get home late. Never at the same time."

I just stared.

I pursed my lips and fidgeted beneath my purple zebra stripe robe. A gift from Randy for my birthday. Which just further proved my theory on men being colorblind. With a finger, I gestured towards the three remaining boys. "That alibi goes for all of you?"

Gordon nodded.

Sanderson stared in what appeared to be utter disbelief at the sight of my robe.

While Hoot turned to Randy, "You know, we really should do a guys poker night at the office. I could use tha money."

Randy nodded in agreement.

"Did you find anything," was my next question as Sanderson's wide eyes traveled down to my ankle's where the robe came to a stop. I should have been grateful that Randy had taken into mind my liking to be covered around strangers. But the rode was hideous. It only came out on special occasions.

It was Sanderson who answered my question.

Gordon's hand brushed over the small of my back as he headed for the bedroom. For his cell phone I imagined.

"Yeah. A Jody and a prowler. We turned the prowler over to CID."

Hoot chimed in, "Ang…gotta question for you. Bout how many Jody's we got here?"

Oh God.

I had to think. Then I shrugged and guesstimated, "Three that I know of."

The sound of Gordon's feet stopped and then hurried toward me. His hands fell on my shoulders.

Hoot asked what was obviously on my husbands mind. "How you know that?"

I waved him off.

I wanted to know about the prowler. "Where did you catch the prowler? What was he doing?"  
Apparently, the prowler was not important. Gordon pulled me back against him while he asked, "In a minute. How do you know that there are three Jody's around here?"

All eyes were on me.

I guess the security of the base was not as important as some guy flirting with me. Go figure. The priorities of the many men in my life always amazed me.

"That's not important Gordon. I don't take anything they tell me seriously."

Hoot's eyes widened and Randy almost hid his surprise.

Sanderson's eyes were on the purple tassels at the ends of the belt of my robe.

The outrage in Gordon's voice wasn't even hidden that well. I took his hands from my shoulders and turned around so I was facing him as he gasped, "They, as in a plurality of men have been speaking to you? These men of unspeakable morals no less!"

Oh dear God.

It took everything I had not to role my eyes. I shot Hoot a knowing look and said, "Gordon, sweetie, you don't have to worry about anything. Ok? Now…someone needs to tell me about the prowler."

Hoot's eyes avoided mine. Though he did not step elsewhere.

"In a minute. Which one of these guys has been speaking to you?"

I just gave up with my husband.

I threw his hands up and sighed, "I'm not telling you because you will go and scare them away and then who will fix the clogged drains or move my stuff around the house when you're gone?"

All matters of base security were forgotten.

Gordon thrust his hand towards the front door, "_They_ were in _my_ home!?"

Well, I wasn't getting anything out of my husband.

I patted his t-shirt covered chest and told the boys, "Good night." At that I strolled down the hall towards my bedroom. Hearing Sanderson tell Randy, "I cannot believe you bought her that robe. That is the most obnoxious thing I have ever seen."

**A few minutes later…**

No sooner had I closed the bedroom door and untied the tassel ended-belt around my waist, my husband cruised on in the bedroom. He closed the door. Shooting whoever was standing outside it in order to eavesdrop a dirty look.

"Are you going to tell me about the prowler," I asked.

Gordon locked the bedroom door.

He knelt by my side of the bed and turned the radio on. NPR's classical music filled the room and from the hall Hoot yelled, "Hater!"

Oblivious to both Hoot and Mozart, Gordon turned to me and softly spoke. "Sweetie I will tell you anything you want to know about the prowler. But I want to know who is in my house while I'm gone. Especially someone who is sleeping around with base wives."

I sighed and tossed the purple monstrosity across the room and onto my arty clothes holder. Then I plopped down on the side of my bed. "It's just Albert. He's the only Jody who does not piss me off. Plus he's well behaved…somewhat and he knows how to work the lawnmower."

Gordon was neither impressed nor relieved.

"I was good. Now promise not to hurt my man-whore and tell me about the prowler."

He strolled around the bed as he peeled his shirt off. Muttering under his breath about the company I kept. To which I told him, "I wouldn't have to keep the company of pervs if you would just rip the grass up and put stones down on the lawn."

Gordon rolled his eyes and dropped down beside me on the bed. He set his alarm and I voiced a thought, "Though, if I cook him lunch and dinner, Albert would probably do that for me and throw in a birdbath. He works up quite the appetite seducing the wives."

"YOU FEED HIM!"

A smirk crossed my face. I laughed and he crawled over me, straddling my waist. I looped my fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and asked him, "Tell me about the prowler already."

He was not exactly thrilled. He looked upwards and sighed then told me, "We followed him around the houses for about an hour. He was doing recon work. Then he found my office. We detained him. Brought him inside and called CID after we asked a few questions."


	26. Chapter 26

**26. **

**Gordon**

We were in one of the many meeting rooms which held desks and chairs and tables of all shapes and sizes, stolen from countless places on base. The entire team was scattered in chairs and desks, I had my ass seated on a table. A can of coke at my side and the latest issue of "Newsweek" in my lap.

The room was not quiet.

The room was full to capacity and there were a couple guys standing, a few empty chairs and desks.

There was even a golden retriever asleep on the floor beneath Jack's chair despite the rule about having animals in the building. After all, we were allowed in the building and the dog was far better behaved then all of us combined. But that was just my opinion.

Someone hopped up on the table beside me.

I glanced over at Randy.

Unlike Hoot, who could blend in anywhere with ease. Or Sanderson, who could work a room like a skilled politician. Randy was not one or _work a room_ or even blend in and observe. He could do both without question. But, he just didn't seem to be in the mood.

"One of the guys said we're going somewhere," was all he said to me.

I nodded, "Training of some sort."

Randy nodded and that was that.

Rarely was an entire team shipped out somewhere. Not that it never happened, but we weren't trained to work like that. We worked better in smaller numbers, even alone. We weren't Seals.

Randy glanced down at the magazine in my lap.

He then asked, "Any idea where?"

I closed the magazine.

Randy was in a chatty mood.

"Rumor has it there is a winter training facility over in Germany somewhere. It's near identical to terrain in Russia, North China, and other scenic places."

Randy chewed on that.

Behind his eyes the wheels were turning. He swung his legs and pondered a question he didn't ask, a question he knew I was unable to answer. I liked that about him. He didn't waste his breath.

The door opened and in came the colonel who was greeted with waves and a few salutes from the new Operators. Randy included.

I stayed seated and watched our CO stroll to the front of the room. He was not a happy man. Someone had obviously been chewing on his ass.

He looked us over, "All of you who captured our resident prowler…do you have alibi's? CID is poking around here and I don't want to give them any reason to think we're lying to them."

The small roar or voices was acceptable to him.

Without a raised hand or any formality, one of our Master Sergeants asked, "What did they find out about that prowler?"

One could always tell new Operators from the old ones. It was truly amazing and amusing. There was something almost sacrilegious about addressing a colonel while slouched in a chair with your feet upon a table, a mug of coffee resting precariously upon your crotch. But Jack could pull it off. All while he messed around with his corn rowed hair.

My boot camp DI would not have been a happy man.

With a long breath the colonel gave a shrug. "They don't know yet."

Oh so helpfully, Jack added, "You know, Sir. If they are having problems with him we could go down and conduct an interview. We've gotten information from various people who were unwilling at first, but then they saw the light."

That sounded like a super idea to me.

The colonel ignored the suggestion for some reason. He then held up a yellow flyer. One we had all seen posted around the base. "Gentleman. It is the Commanders Birthday and the event is Formal. Dress Blues."

Silence fell over our room.

The yellow flyer fell on a table.

No one touched it.

"Make an appearance and do not bring any groupies, escorts, and no borrowing Gordon's wife. Everyone gets their own date. If I have to find a date and go, you boys do to."

Well that didn't sound fair.

Randy looked to me, "Can I bring my boys?"

"I don't see why not," I told him with a shrug.

"Also, Jack, the dog does not count as a date. I don't want to tell you again," the colonel added. He then walked to the dry erase board and picked a marker up. With some quick motions he wrote down some numbers.

Longitude and Latitutude.

The newbie's took notes. The rest of us knew the numbers well. It was a few miles S.W. of the hospital in Germany. I could never remember the name.

He folded his arms and informed us, "Germany, in some sort of a hope to bring pride or something to their military, has created a winter training center. The Aussies, British, and the U.S. were invited to train there. We're one of the lucky dog's picked from the hat. Think of it as a war game."

War Games were always fun.

"Pack for cold weather. Clothing and weapons. Also, bring civvies and camos for time off. This should be no longer then three weeks, but, these are the German's so remember that."

I made a mental to get flower for Angela, a lot of flowers.

Sanderson raised his hand.

The colonel pointed, "What?"

"Are any other teams going?"

The colonel nodded, "Yeah, a Frog team. Team two I believe…I'll have to check my notes. But I believe that is the artic warfare team. Boys…do behave around the frogs. I don't want another Myrtle Beach incident."

Hoot's head whipped over to the closest guy who whispered _I'll explain later_.

"All right my little sponges…any questions yet?"

Sponges indeed.

I voiced a question that had been brewing. "Are we going over there for recreational purposes. Or should we be paying attention or working on something that may come in handy for some obscure reason?"

He gave me a look that all but accused me of being a smartass. Then he answered my question, "When I am given more information, you will be briefed. Keep a travel bag handy."

Once translated the colonels words came out at; You'll be briefed sometime during your flight which will leave at any possible minute.


	27. Chapter 27

**27.**

The first clue that something was not quite right in my perfect little world was when I got home from the gallery and saw a line of shoes in the garage, close to the door. Usually those shoes would be scattered around the house like confetti.

This got my attention but could have been anything. Like Sanderson on one of his cleaning rampages where he turned into Mr. Clean for hours on end.

However, I shook it off.

Adjusted the new six hundred dollar purse on my arm and strolled into my house. It was then I almost dropped my fifty-cent canvas bag that had been bought at a thrift store and held all my work stuff.

There was no chaos anywhere.

The house was pretty clean. Someone, not Sanderson, had gone through and straightened up, vacuumed and swept the floors. The smell of starch was in the air too.

Something was afoot.

I made my way into the kitchen and dropped my canvas bag on the kitchen island. Where atop the island was a vase of beautiful flowers. Stunning tropical flowers mixed with white roses. Hibiscuses, Birds of Paradise, and Calla Lilies blended with the most beautiful roses I had seen since Gordon had totaled the car last year.

Gordon had bad news.

I knew this because I only got flowers on three occasions.

1. When he totaled a car. Since we no longer had a car at the moment I knew that was not why.

2. Or if he was under investigation. But, CID was already poking around so that wasn't it.

Which left only one possibility, or reason number 3. Gordon was going off somewhere for work for a long amount of time, more then two weeks.

My purse ended up on the counter.

It was then I noticed by the vase on the counter was a small box of white chocolate. My favorite from the candy store at the mall. The ones in the yellow wrapper that had the cream in the middle. I only got chocolate when there was a formal event.

Boy; chocolates and flowers, Gordon had an expensive day.

I grabbed the box, opened it, took out some little foil wrapped balls and then headed through the house in the hunt for my husband. Which did not take long since we lived in base housing, well known for its space efficiency.

Both Gordon and Randy were in our bedroom putting dress blues together. Ironing and starching too.

Though Gordon was doing the ironing while Randy was seated at the end of our bed with Gordon's cigar box on his lap. Inside the box were medals that Gordon had earned but couldn't wear. So they were kept in a box in the closet with his dress blues.

I plopped a white ball of chocolate in my mouth and strolled into my bedroom.

Randy glanced up and then back down at the medals he was sorting through. I got a somewhat guilty look from Gordon. Not because he was going away, oh no. He just was not a fan of formal gatherings with his colleagues.

I chewed on my chocolate and raised both my eyebrows.

It was then Gordon told me, "Formal attire."

Sagging against the doorframe I thought about what was in my closet. I had a plethora of fancy dresses. So I wasn't worried about that. What I was curious was, "How long are you going to be gone?"

I knew better then to ask where he was going.

A thoughtful look crossed Gordon's face, "Probably around three weeks."

Three weeks. Well that was a decent number. I wasn't used to getting a rounded number like that which meant whatever he was going to do was structured, training of some sort.

**Later that evening…**

Formal things weren't exactly my idea of a good time, but they were a necessary evil. I stayed at Gordon's side and played the dutiful little Army Wife. Though, I was a little dutiful I guess. Even though I worked and wasn't able to dedicate every waking hour to keeping house, gasp, I made sure everything was in working order, somewhat.

Gordon led me around the huge auditorium, which was used for visiting speakers and whatnot. Big enough to hold the majority of the base so they could kiss the commanders butt, or just wish him a happy birthday. But I don't mean Gordon just held my hand and we caroused through the crowd.

Oh no.

Gordon was on the correct side and had his arm looped through mine. He _escorted_ me. Apparently there was a correct and incorrect way to escort a female around. Who knew? To think I had gone so many years without that knowledge. What had I been missing?

Couple by couple, person by person, we made our way through the formal event and eventually to the bar. Which was odd since neither or us drank. But we found Hoot there with the flavor of the hour. Her name was either Tiffany or Kimberly, I couldn't remember. Gordon just called her ma'am to be on the safe side. Gordon ordered a soda and conferred with Hoot on an early escape plan.

I spotted someone I knew well.

I spotted my lawn-boy Albert.

Albert's girlfriend worked in MP position so naturally she had her uniform on. Their relationship was an open one. I had heard of such marriages and relationships, but I was unable to share Gordon. I patted his hand and whispered, "I'll be right back."

Oblivious he nodded.

I gave him his white gloves and headed through the people. I found my little friend, dressed in his tux, holding his girlfriends purse. He was so whipped it was cute.

At the sight of me he smiled and kissed my cheek, "Angela! Thank God you're here. Marie just left me here."

She had obviously abandoned him in a horrible place.

I swatted at his hand that found it's way to the small of my back and asked the King of Base Gossip; "What have you heard about that prowler?"

A look of pure amazement passed over his face.

He beckoned me closer.

I leant in as he whispered against my ear, "He's been arrested for trespassing on government property and prowling. From what I heard through the grapevine is he is the accomplice. They got his fingerprints on record from his younger days for a breaking and entering crime."

This got my attention.

I looked into his dark brown eyes framed by silver wire glasses, "He has a record?"

Again his face lit up.

Albert loved to share juicy gossip.

Oblivious to the officers all around us he whispered in my ear. Again, I swatted his hand off my back. He was just being the Albert I knew. "From what I hear he was suspected in a string of arsons three years ago. But…they were never proven and he moved."

"So he's a civilian," I asked.

Albert nodded, "But, he has a cousin and brother in base that are being watched."

I began to ask who they were and what their rank was. Sadly, I never got the chance. Hoot appeared at my side. He looked from Albert to myself and them spoke with what could have been sincerity, if I didn't know any better. "Hey y'all. I hate to interrupt. But, I need ta borrow Ang. I bring her right back. That all right with you?"

Albert nodded and I gave Hoot a look. A look that asked what on earth he was doing. He had a date. He didn't need to borrow me for anything. Infact, both Sanderson and Randy had a twin, so they were busy too. I had the night off to be with my husband who was MIA when my eyes scanned the room.

"Hoot," I asked in a voice that both questioned and threatened.

Hoot's arm looped around mine and he gave me a toothy smile, "I am just followin orders from my superior."

Uh-huh.

Gordon played the rank card, I highly doubted that. Where was my husband? My eyes scanned all over the place and he was nowhere in sight.

I looked to Albert and told him, "Go find your wife. My husband is onto you and your extra curricular activities."

Albert's eyes widened and Hoot whined. Much like he did whenever he was missing out on something truly entertaining. I bid Albert a farewell as he quickly skirted off to find his wife and then I turned to Hoot, "Do you have no shame?"

He appeared flabbergasted.

"Yes you," I added.

"Girl, I ain't the one tryin to pick up married women."

Annoyed, I sighed, "Hoot. Albert is well aware that I am not going to sleep with him. He may have questionable morals, but, he is a friend of mine. I don't go around intimidating the bimbo's you bring home."

Hoot gave me a face.

He looked upwards and then back at me, "Well…it's different for you. We have to watch after you."

Oh God.

If he were Gordon I would have sagged against him. But, Hoot was not Gordon. It would have been weird. So I let out my breath, loudly, and told him, "I have a husband and he is mighty fine at taking care of me."

Again, Hoot looked upwards. Just as annoyed as I was but he was almost childish about it. I kept waiting for him to stomp his foot. He looked around the room and then down at his feet. Finally he looked at me and informed me, "Yeah, I know. But with Annette gone you're like my lil sister. I gotta watch out for you."

Well that was almost sweet. Had he not been involved in a conspiracy to beat up my friend.

Once more I looked around for sight of Albert and spotted him with none other then my husband.


	28. Chapter 28

**28.**

**Gordon**

I had tried to be understanding and all. I really didn't want to turn into one of those obsessive Army Husbands who monitored their wives thinking they were cheating.

Plus, I knew Angela would never cheat.

I had been pretty patient for the few hours after she told me about her little friend/yard-boy. I got the fact she didn't like pushing the old fashioned lawnmower around the yard. But she could hire someone to cut the grass. Someone that wasn't a man-slut.

When the mentioned man-slut had attempted to put his hand on my wife. It was then I decided against my good behavior. I didn't have to be well behaved. It wasn't in my job description. Was I being childish. Oh probably. Did I care? Not in the least.

Once Hoot had my wife distracted I strolled right on over to Albert. Wooer of numerous base wives and some civilian women too. There had been talk of his and his girlfriend's non-traditional love life.

I bumped Albert not so gently.

He turned and looked at me not surprised. He took a deep breath and asked in an almost expectant voice, "Mr. Gordon?"

Normally, I'm not one to throw my rank around. It's not a trait I admire. But I felt the need to let Albert know I outranked his girlfriend, "Master Sergeant Gordon."

The smaller man winced, "Of course you are." Then he felt the need to share, "I'm not sleeping with, or in anyway involved with your wife, Sir."

The sir was not needed.

But, since I had five inches and a good sixty pounds to him, I guess he was attempting to suck up.

I leant in close and he mirrored me. Not wanting the crowded room to hear I suppose. It was then I told him, "I know that. I also know that you perform household chores for my wife in my absence."

"For food, that's all. Your wife is simply my friend."

Yeah, I knew that. Angela had told me and I knew she wasn't lying. And it wasn't because I had been trained on how to tell the difference between the truth and a lie. I didn't have to use that on my wife. I could tell when she wasn't being truthful long before I had that training.

"I know," was what I told him.

He looked at me closely.

Afraid of what was coming next I suppose. I guess I was intimidating.

Using my threatening tone that worked so well on the job. I informed my wife's little friend. "Albert, let me just warn you ahead of time. If I see you lay a hand on my wife then I will kill you and dispose of your body. She is not to be touched by anyone I don't approve of."

Ok, well that was a little possessive and I knew it. But I took my vows seriously. Not the vows I made in the Elvis Wedding Chapel, but the promises I had made her when we were little, when I promised to protect her. When I promised that no one would ever lay a hand on her again.

The man nodded and then he asked me, "Is this because of the childhood abuse?"

A cold feeling filled my gut.

Shock I believe.

Upon seeing my expression, he quickly added, "I saw the scars. No one that beautiful should be that skittish…don't look at me like that. I have my Masters in Psychology with a specialization in sexual abuse victims."

I was torn.

Did I want to do physical bodily harm to this man? Or was that urge to hit something all the crap I suppressed turning into curiosity. Damn, my wife could pick the oddest people to spend time with. I did not get to sort through those emotions. My wife came over holding her itty-bitty purse and told me, "My purse is vibrating."

Ah! That would be my pager.


	29. Chapter 29

29.

**Twenty minutes later…**

Gordon had borrowed someone's car. A Ford Mustang. Since Gordon was not the only guy in his team to get paged he drove me home, along with Trey and Troy, both of which were sound asleep in the back seat, Troy slumped over Trey's lap.

The twins had a big night.

Randy had gotten to show his sons off to everyone and had done so without shame.

Randy's pager had gone off too.

For half the ride we rode in silence. I peeked over into the back now and then to be sure they were still asleep. Every time Gordon would catch my eye and laugh to himself. Finally he told me, "Angela, sweetheart, they aren't going anywhere. They're perfectly safe in there."

"I know," I so eloquently shot back. Folding my hands in my lap while he turned onto our street. Then oh so calmly he asked, "Have you given much thought to one of our own?"

My head snapped towards him and away from the street so fast I thought I gave myself whiplash. "One of our own what?" I had heard him and I could not believe him, or the words from his mouth. Even though I knew they had been coming.

Gordon motioned with his eyebrows into the backseat, "A little creature."

Inwardly I guess I knew this talk was coming and it made me sick. But he wanted a child. Why? I had no idea. I was too terrified of being a horrible mother. Plus, I didn't deserve another one. I didn't deserve to be able to create another life after giving away the one that had been created in me before.

"When you retire and can be a stay at home dad," I told him quietly.

There was no hint of emotion in his voice.

It was passive, "You don't want to be a mother? You're great with Trey and Troy."

I didn't even know if I wanted to be a mom. I stared down at my fingers that had suddenly become fascinating. "Because they're not mine. I don't deserve to be a mother, Gordon."

Perceptive as always he sighed slightly, not mad, just casually annoyed. "Sweetie, you were a child having a baby. You did the best thing for that baby by giving it up."

Logical, yeah.

I was feeling guilty and I knew it, but I couldn't stop those feelings. They made me feel like hell. I looked up at the ceiling for guidance. "I could be a mom if the child wasn't mine."

There. I said it. I admitted I could be a mother of someone that was not my flesh and blood. I was truly a horrible person.

Gordon's hand rested on my shoulder. His thumb caressed my skin, "Adoption?"

I nodded. That would work.

"But not right now," I added. Having perfect timing as Gordon came to a stop outside the house. He put the car in park and turned it off, "That's fine. Thing's are too busy now anyway. It's just something that I have been thinking more and more about."

Probably because of the twins.

I smiled and looked back down at my hands, "What if I don't know how to be a mother?"

Wonderful as always, Gordon leant over and kissed my cheek. With his lips against my skin he whispered, "Don't worry, I'll be there too." A small smile began on my lips. I turned my head and looked into his eyes. All I could manage was a small, "Ok."

A few minutes later…

I led the way up the cement walk with Trey, or so I believed, sleeping. I had him balanced on my hip while I worked on unlocking the front door. Gordon right behind me with Troy clinging to his front like a Garfield window decoration.

Both twins were sound asleep.

They had had an extremely busy night.

In Gordon's free hand was my purse. He had no shame about carrying it. I had him trained so well.

Once I got the front door opened and stepped inside I reached around for the lights, flipped the switch, and nothing. I tried with a couple of the other switches hoping to illuminate the dark home.

Nothing.

"Powers out," I sighed as I strolled into the dark hall, stepping on something crunchy. Glass. Broken glass. I began to ask if Hoot had broken something, but stopped, Hoot would have cleaned it up.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Gordon's voice filled the silent house, "Angela, take Troy and go wait in the car."

I wasn't going to argue. Something was up, my spidey sense was going off. I could feel that something was afoot. And then we heard the sounds of someone handling a gun and a little red light appeared on my chest.

I froze, just in time to be blinded by a flashlight. Just as my night vision was kicking in too.

A voice filled my dark home, "Don't either of you move, especially you Master Sergeant. I know what you are so if you so much as blink, I'll shoot her."

I blinked and tried to not be blinded by the light.

Whoever it was was in front of me. Putting me and the twins between him and Gordon. Whoever it was definitely was not wanting to be close to my husband. A smart choice for any burglar.

Oh so calmly Gordon told the man, "Look, just leave. Go out one of the back windows. I won't do anything with the kids here."

That sounded mighty reasonable to me.

"Where is the camera?"

Camera?

"What camera," Gordon asked with a voice cold as steel. He was not a happy man.

"Don't play games with me. The other night when you and the rest of your…co-workers were out and my friend was arrested, one of you had a camera. I saw Sergeant Sanderson hand it to you. Where is it?"

Whoever it was was well informed.

He then added, "I told you not to move Master Sergeant. Do not Move."

I looked over my shoulder at Gordon. In a hope to get my nightvision back. It wasn't working very well.

"The camera belongs to Sergeant Sanderson, I have no idea where it is. The last time I saw it was when I gave it to him in the kitchen."

"Where is his stuff?"

"In the living room," Gordon told him.

"Mrs. Gordon, give you husband the child on your hip and go look for the camera in the living room."

Gordon didn't argue.

Whoever it was knew what he did and wasn't going to give Gordon any chances to be creative.

Very carefully I peeled Trey off me and handed him to Gordon. Who easily plopped the sleeping child on his hip.

"Now come towards me Mrs. Gordon and walk into the living room."

I listened. I wasn't stupid.

I stepped on broken glass and papers as I strolled into the dark living room, my night vision readjusting. The man kept the gun and flashlight on my husband, who had his arms full of two children, literally.

I found the black box Sanderson kept his belongings in and dug through it. I dug around his sleeping area and peeked under his air mattress. I found a camera but didn't say anything. I kept digging around while I opened the back of the camera, it didn't have film. Sanderson was developing the film. I needed another roll of film so I dug around and by the grace of God alone found a box. Making as much noise as possible I dumped it out and kept making noise while I opened a plastic film container, loaded the camera, closed the camera.

"I found the camera."

"Come to me," the man told me.

I listened, camera in hand.

He kept the flashlight and gun trained on my husband. He really did not trust Gordon at all.

I handed the man the camera and then felt him pull me close. "Master Sergeant, get on your knees."

Obediently, Gordon listened. He got on his knees while holding the twins.

"Stay there. I'm just using Mrs. Gordon to get to the door. I won't hurt her so you have nothing to worry about."

Oh yeah right, we'd heard that one before. But the man walked me down the hall and made sure I was between him and Gordon. Once he was past Gordon he let go of me and bolted. He ran for the front door like his life depended on it, which it did.


	30. Chapter 30

_Authors Note: Ok, so I am doing a single POV from the colonels wife. Only because I was inspired, so shoot me. I was inspired. So enjoy and review!_

**30. **

**Mrs. Col. Monroe**

The poor girl was passed out on my couch. Sleep was not what happened at the pre-dawn hour when she and the twins arrived on my doorstep. She had tucked them into the guest bedroom and then laid down on the couch. Seconds later she was out like a light.

Nothing short of a hurricane would have woken her up.

When it came time I took the twins to school and shooed CID away from my front porch. They had threatened me with all their might. Oh how I quivered. I had slammed the door in their face, which hadn't woken the Master Sergeants wife. I was almost tempted to take her pulse. Almost being the key word.

The slam had knocked a picture off the wall. Which had shattered upon hitting my hard floor.

When I walked over to her I noticed a quarter sized scar on her wrist. The closer I looked at her bare arm the more I noticed light old and healed scars. Then there was the way she was curled up in a ball. Intuition told me if I touched her I would wake her up. Something told me she wouldn't wake up easily.

Plus, she needed her sleep.

So I took of my binoculars and watched the people across the street work in the Master Sergeants house while I called the other wives to hear about any new gossip. There was always a kernel of truth somewhere in the gossip.

Hidden deep within the gossip.

I watched the investigators take boxes of evidence out of the house and spoke on the phone. It wasn't long before my husband called me. Not to check up. Oh no, I'd have his head severed if he dared.

No. He called and did not bother with formalities, "Izzy, doll, is Mrs. Gordon still there?"

Binoculars still attached to my face I nodded, keeping a close eye on the neighbors and CID agents talking. "Sleeping like a baby on the couch. I took the little twins to school."

Those agents were useless and annoying.

"Good, make sure you shadow her today. I overheard some of the guys and her husband talking and they are going to poke around where the CID Agents are staying. Make sure she doesn't figure out what they're up to. Keep her busy. I'll be busy enough making sure no one gets caught and arrested today. Oh. Also, she and Gary need a car so take her off base and get one. See if you can get her to bond with one of the other wives. Her husband probably won't be done committing his felonies till later this evening so make sure she is occupied well past the dinner hours."

"Uh-huh, will do."

I lowered the binoculars as the neighbors went back in their house. I'd call Mrs. Lopez to see what had been discussed. Plus, she needed to let me know how things were going with her husband's physical therapy.

"Izzy?"

I answered the voice I had known since grade school, "Yes colonel?"

"What color underwear do you have on?"

A smile tugged at my lips, "Colonel, I do not believe that is proper phone conversation for an officer. And the matching red bra and thong set with the pearl buttons."

He made a noise and a noise came from Angela.

Quickly I got off the phone with him and tossed the phone on the ottoman. Then I looked to the young red headed wife on my couch as she looked around sleepily. Trying very hard to figure out just where she was.

"Good morning Angela. Could I get you a cup of coffee?"

She jumped as if I had smacked her with a stick.

In the sudden movement she almost fell off and onto the floor in a pile.

Odd, but I kept that thought to myself.

She sighed and looked around suddenly remembering. Then she pressed her palm to her face and made a noise, then looked up and around.

"I already took them to school," I told her.

"Thank you," she quietly told me. With another look around she peeked under the blanket that was twisted around her. Then she wrapped it around her like a cape and looked to me. "Have you heard from Gordon?"

Her concern was adorable. The girl was married to one of the most elite commandos in the world and she never stopped worrying about him. The two of them were utterly remarkable.

"Yes, in a way. I just got off the phone with my husband and he informed me that Gordon and the majority of his team were going to be otherwise engaged today. Therefore he suggested I take you off base with me and some of the other wives. You are in need of a car?"

She blinked.

I suppose she was not a morning person. Pity. I loved to watch a sunrise.

"Car…car shopping?"

I nodded and began to order her around before she could change her mind, "Yes. I'll make some breakfast and make some calls. The shower is down the hall and if you would like a change of clothes just go through my closet."

Confusion crossed her face.

She ran her fingers that I noticed were crooked. Not one of her fingers was straight. As if they had all been broken at one time or another. I didn't think too hard about it. Something told me that I really didn't want to know.

She tugged at her red hair and looked around the living room.

"Would you like some coffee," I again asked.

All I got was a nod in response. Then she stood up and wandered towards the bathroom in a pair of grey sweatpants that were obviously not hers, they were quite large on her and probably Gordon's. Thick white socks covered her toes that were covered in diamonds. But, she had one of those white wife beater shirts that showed her arms and shoulders; along with proof of a life that hadn't been so easy.

**Sometime later…**

Eventually Angela wandered into the kitchen after a 30-minute shower. Gordon's known ability to take a three-minute shower had obviously not rubbed off on his wife.

Again, I wasn't going to say anything.

Especially not that the white button up shirt she had put on belonged to the colonel. Or that she had on my skinny jeans. Jeans I hadn't been able to fit my ass into for about six years, jeans she filled out effortlessly.

Instead I handed her a Ranger coffee mug full of black coffee. She then poured milk and several teaspoons of sugar in it. She killed it.

I pointed out the eggs, bacon, and waffles.

She made a face and took a seat at the kitchen nook with the coffee flavored mug of melted sugar. When the front door opened she looked about ready to crawl up the wall and hide.

I had told her the other wives needed to get things done off base. So I lied. What I had told them was something along the lines of find something to do. I needed her to join our little group. She needed to know she wasn't alone, she needed us no matter how much she fought it. I knew that from personal experience.

So I had called over Lynn and Jesse. Both wives from the men of C Team.

There were many wives from that team.

Lynn and Jesse were the only wives who made more then my husband and were quite independent. Like Angela they had careers were their income paid all the bills and then provided the spending money. They were caretakers of their husbands and their equals.

There were wives who were stay at home moms and did the more traditional small jobs around base to help pay the bills. There were wives on the teams who were in school and working as waitresses or whatnot. Then there were a couple wives who had husbands who were more controlling then need be.

Angela needed to be around women like her.

Jesse was more upbeat then Lynn, who was an international business lawyer. While Jesse strolled on over and introduced herself to Angela, Lynn came over and began to make herself a plate. Her black hair piled up in a ponytail on her head. From behind her petite Asian frame betrayed her pregnancy. From the side she protruded outward. She took the majority of the eggs and bacon and three waffles. Then she asked, "Is that coffee decaf?"

When I shook my head she filled a mug up.

Then she waddled toward the nook.

She set her food down and climbed in the spacious bench seat.

I grabbed a mug of black coffee and sat down beside Lynn and prayed my evil plan would work.


	31. Chapter 31

**31.**

**Gordon**

Since my wife was otherwise entertained I didn't have to worry about her getting herself in trouble. So I could concentrate on getting myself out of trouble, or at least skirting around it. The colonel pretty much knew when he gave all of us, all the teams stateside the afternoon off what we'd do with it.

Therefore he left the room.

He left all of us to our own devices.

Which was how Randy and I ended up in the Days Inn hotel off base. The hotel where the CID Agents Morgan and Gagnon were staying. It was a pretty nasty day so the hotel wasn't too busy.

Hoot had used his charms on base with some of the desk jockeys and called us with the room number. After that Randy and I cruised out of the bar and into the elevator to head up to the sixth floor.

Some sort of a college sporting event was taking place. Teenagers had invaded the hotel, really upbeat teenagers, which meant their game hadn't been played just yet.

There had to be five of the mentioned teenagers in the elevator.

Randy and I stayed in the back. Silent. Unnoticed. If anyone questioned the teenagers they probably wouldn't have even remember us being in the elevator. The teenagers got off on the floor before us.

Once they exited Randy looked over at me, "You remember being that young?"

I actually laughed as the doors closed.

I had never been that young even when I was that age. "Where you ever that young," I asked in return and curious, Randy was a private person. It was like pulling teeth to get anything out of him not related to work.

He snickered, "I was one of six Navy Brats."

Oh yeah, he had gotten to enjoy his childhood. From the grin on his face I could tell. Randy looked at me and shrugged, "Nothing illegal mind you."

Uh-huh, that's what they all said.

The elevator doors opened again and out we strolled.

It was the middle of the day so it was pretty deserted. Still, we were careful. We were about to commit a crime on our home soil. Breaking and entering in order to snoop on an on-going investigation in an off-base civilian hotel. Not exactly a career booster , which was, even more incentive not to get caught.

Randy found the room and set at defeating the lock while I stood watch.

I paged Jack as I patrolled and punched in the correct numbers to let him know we were getting in the room. If the two investigators left the base he'd page me.

"We're in."

I looked over my shoulder.

Randy had defeated the lock quickly with his gloves on.

He was good.

Randy then pushed open the door and I followed him in the chilly hotel room , which had been done by the maid. Under his breath he muttered something about the A/C freezing his balls off.

"Nag nag nag, I'll check the desk."

"Yes Master Sergeant," was his muttered reply as the door closed behind us.

I crossed the frozen tundra while pulling a pair of gloves from my pocket. They were on before I touched anything. Even then I was careful not to move a thing. With my luck one of the investigators would be anal about the way things were kept or placed or stacked.

There were the usual notes about people, places, and times.

There was a timeline and a photo collection of a million people on base.

I nosed around the drawers and under the desk.

I poked through papers and a leather bag on the floor.

Then came Randy's voice, "G."

I glanced up.

Standing in front of the TV Randy held a piece of paper.

"What's that?"

"A list of all the women the base commander has slept with."

That didn't make sense.

I blinked, "What?"

Randy looked down where he had snatched the paper from, "They have a theory going that it's the base commander's fault. There's a shitload of women on this list and that list, and husbands. G, the commander is a Jody."

Inwardly I wasn't that surprised.

He had always been really vain for a married man. I didn't express that though. What I expressed was, "Do they have proof?"

Randy's snort was answer enough. "Just gossip, G."

So I went back to going through the briefcase on the floor. It was Investigator Gagnon's and he had nothing truly inspiring to say about the case other then he really had a thing for cross stitching magazines. Plus there were enough coupons for McDonalds to give half of China a heart condition. The man really needed to take better care of himself.

He also needed to have some sort of paperwork filing system.

In my snooping I had discovered notes dating back into the 1980's. Case notes that had some importance back in their day.

"G…look at this…"

Randy was going through the other notes. He was probably looking through notes from the right investigation. I put the briefcase back together and walked over to him.

Randy simply handed me a piece of paper.

The paper was white with nothing special on it. Written by hand, probably Inspector Morgan's. He had lined out a tree of all the commanders liaisons. Randy pointed to one name.

I knew the name. The sister of an airman. Randy pointed to the name, "Wasn't this guys brother a Ranger? I remember the guy was killed right before I went into Selection."

I remembered that. The Ranger had been killed in a motorcycle crash.

That was not what bothered me.

Randy vocalized what did. "G, it could have been the airman in your house."

It could have been. But I doubted it. How would an airman know who I was, what I was, what I did. Possibly an airman in high places. The airman on the paper was not such an airman. He was a goober.

I shook my head, "Not this guy. The guy in my house knew exactly what I was capable of and didn't take a single chance. This kid has no idea who I am."

"Would you bet a vital part of your anatomy on that?"

Randy had been spending way too much time with Hoot.

"Yeah, I would."

The pager on Randy's hip buzzed.

It was time to go.


	32. Chapter 32

**32.**

"So until the CID people give you your house back you and Gary will be staying here," Jesse told me, flipping the light on in her garage that was immaculately clean.

There were no oil stains on the floor.

The walls were covered with organizers that held tools, lawn care products, and whatnot. All neatly mind you. There were rugs on the floor. A shoe mountain where shoes were neatly placed inside each cubbyhole.

The cement floor had been swept and polished.

In the corner was a hammock.

I looked at Jesse, "You're the one married to Mr. Anal-Retentive."

A smile crossed her face, "Yeah. He's special…what can I say? Anywho, in that tall white closet by the washer are extra towels and whatnot. We've got the smallest house on base. Oh, there are some blankets and pillows in there too. The garage stays warm so I doubt you'll need them. Oh, plus, Randy and the twins will be across the street. I'm not sure about the other two guys you were housing."

That was ok. So long as I knew where to pick the twins up from. Hoot and Sanderson would find us. With a nod I looked around the garage and noticed something odd. "Where are your cars?"

Again, Jesse rolled her eyes.

"We're not allowed to park them in here. This is the man room. The cars get parked in the driveway."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

I had heard rumors of Mr. Anal-Retentive's perfectionist ways. So far they were all true.

"I know," was all she said.

She continued to point out water bottles and the garage door opener. The garage door that led into the house swung open and there stood Stalin…Lynn. Mrs. Monroe had referred to Lynn as Stalin once and since then I couldn't get the image out of my head. Though…Lynn was probably more sinister then Stalin. She had gotten me a brand new car for half the price with two extra years on the warranty. She had destroyed the salesman. It was cute.

She thrust her water bottle at us while patting her protruding belly, "I think we should go out to dinner, now. I am in the mood for chicken wings and hard-boiled eggs. Now…plus I want some of those Shirley Temples with the little red cherries. Now. Angela we're taking your car…I like those heated seats. Come on, let's go, I'm not getting any younger."

I was slightly confused.

Where were we supposed to find hard-boiled eggs?


	33. Chapter 33

**33.**

**Gordon**

Randy followed me into the room that the colonel had set aside for us, but refused to acknowledge that we were in there. Even though he had given strict orders to keep the room empty.

He was a charitable man.

Sanderson had called all of us down. He had found something in the pictures he had developed weeks ago.   
"You don't think Hoot's in trouble? He hasn't checked in yet."

Hoot was special. The man had spent quite a bit of time wandering around swamplands as a child and then the forest as a teenager. Hoot was not able to get lost while sober. He would have no problem following the investigators around while blending in.

"Don't worry, he'll call us if there is a problem or if he finds something out. The man is a natural scout."

I heard something come out of Randy's mouth.

When I looked back at him he gave me a smile.

Yeah, right.

We turned the corner and the door came into sight, as did the colonel. Who looked up and kept on walking.

The colonel was a swell man.

We got to the door and Randy opened it for me, I strolled in to see Sanderson sipping what appeared to be black coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He glanced up at us and pointed to the pictures scattered on the table of the meeting room. "Check this out, Randy, you'll recognize these."

We looked over the pictures.

Sanderson filled me in, "These are from our party after making it through Selection. It was held down at the lake. Look at this here…" At that Sanderson handed me a picture.

It was obviously of one of the new guys with three scantily clad females doing the limbo. Sanderson pointed out two people in the background. One the base commander and the other being the airman's sister.

Sanderson gave me another picture, "And here is another one."

A different dance scene.

This one had the couple were arguing in the background. The female did not look happy.

I looked to my friends/colleagues.

Randy's pager buzzed.

Sanderson pointed to the phone and looked to me, "Ok, well this makes sense. This female and her airman brother could be the arsonists. They have motive, she's a scorned woman and a arsonist running around base setting fires is bad, especially if the base commander can't stop it."

"That would explain where the gas came from," I helpfully added even though Sanderson didn't need it. He was a lot smarter then me.

"Plus the late brother could have filled them in on some demolition tips."

Randy hopped on the table and began to punch in the number from on his beeper.

I looked back to Sanderson nodded and asked, "Ok. We can run with this. What about the airman's motive."

Sanderson snorted, "What brother wouldn't protect his heartbroken sister and help screw over the guy who broke her heart?"

Good point.

The sound of Randy filled the background.

I asked Sanderson, "Ok, then who was in the house last night? I don't know that airman and he doesn't know me."

"The base commander is well aware of you."

Sanderson's comment shocked me. I blinked and stepped back, unsure how to even address it. Enlisted didn't go around accusing officers, especially the commanding officers of their base of committing crimes. It wasn't good for the career.

"We're gonna need proof for that," I told Sanderson.

"Ya think, look…"

Sanderson never got to finish his thought. Randy slammed the phone down and announced, "CID is out talking to my sons!"

We both looked at Randy. Our faces asked the questions.

Randy hopped off the table, "They're at recess, Hoot's keeping an eye on things. I'm going down there."

The voice of reason spoke up.

"No. Call Angela, if you go down then they'll know someone is watching them. If the wife goes down then it won't look so obvious. Where is the wife?"

I was momentarily insulted.

"_She's my wife!_ She is not here to be a pawn in our little plot."

"Gordon, think of the bigger picture. We all love the wife, ok, but she is an extension of you and a less obvious one. Plus…if she's there we can break into the car!"

Well he had a point.

Randy then added, "Plus, it'll give us more time. You weren't exactly willing to share her with CID last night. They'll want to talk to her without you hovering. Call her."

I don't hover.

But they had a point.

I pointed as I stomped to the phone, "I don't hover!"

Sanderson gestured at me, "Monitor, whatever! Make the call!"


	34. Chapter 34

34.

The school's walls were covered with artwork and whatnot.

It was a cute school.

Even though I was on a mission to go pick up the twins, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to pick up my own children from the school. So I pretended as I made my way down the hall, the empty hall.

The visitor sticker badge on my chest.

No one stopped me.

I made my way into the cafeteria where the twins and their teacher were. They had been pulled out of recess, therefore I had to come up with a very important story to feed the teacher. One I concocted all on my own. One I hoped the CID guys would buy. If not I was SOL.

At the sight of me both Trey and Troy hopped off the lunch table, backpacks in hand, "Aunty!"

Trey, silent, fled towards me, his Power Ranger Backpack in hand. He hugged my legs like they were going out of style and looked up at me with his fathers eyes, "Can we go home?"

Troy glared at the investigators while taking his sweet time to get at my side.

Troy was the more confident one.

Trey was the baby.

I placed my hand in the fluff of his Afro and looked to Ms. Stephanie, "I'll be taking the boys out early today. Do they have all their homework for tonight?"

Trey clung to my leg and Troy took his spot on my other side, he glared at the two CID men. My little protector in his camo pants and cornrows.

Stephanie gave me a sincere smile.

She then handed me a PTA form, "Yes, Mrs. Gordon. Please remind Mr. Shuggart that he has a PTA conference with me tonight at seven. My number is on there is he has any problems meeting me."

She completely ignored the two CID investigators who were waiting oh-so-patiently behind her. I tried to ignore them. It was hard.

"Not a problem, can we go now?"

The teacher nodded, "I'm done. Have a good day boys."

Trey waved from where he clung to me.

"Bye Ms. Stephanie," Troy waved, still staring down the CID agents.

The young teacher strolled back out to the playground, past the agents, not thrilled in the least that they had been waiting for her to leave.

It was the annoying one, Investigator Gagnon who moved to speak, however, the one I liked spoke up first from where he was seated, "Mrs. Gordon, we won't take up much of your time. Would you mind if we have a few words with you and your Godchildren?"

At least he was polite.

I rubbed Trey's neck when he hid his face in my leg.

Troy looked up at me and tugged on my purse, "No. We're civilians. We can have a lawyer, we don't need to talk to the nasty investigators."

Oh dear God.

Troy had been spending way too much time with Sanderson and Hoot.

I looked down at Troy, "Indeed we are. I'll see what they want ok? You don't have to say a word to them, ok? When were done here we'll go out with Lynn and get some Ice Cream. How does that sound?"  
Trey nodded enthusiastically.

Troy gave me a nod and looked back at the CID guys warily.

Then I looked to the two men.

Morgan had a smirk on his face, Gagnon did not.

The annoying one spoke up, "Mrs. Gordon. You are a military dependant, you can tell us what we ask or…I can make your husbands life miserable."

Morgan looked upwards for help.

Like me, Morgan was not so impressed by Gagnon. Whose eyes widened. I glanced down and noticed Troy, who flipped off the investigator.

Way too much time with Hoot.

"Troy sweetie, go sit down right there. Take my purse and your brother. Ok? I'll be right back."

Obediently, Troy hooked his arm around his brother's waist and held my purse. The two sat down at a lunch table and began to dig through my purse, probably for gum. Gordon did the same thing.

I then stormed over to the two men.

I channeled the hero that I dreamt would rescue me as a child. I would be the protector for Trey and Troy that I had prayed for myself years and years ago. I pointed at Gagnon and snarled at him. "You can ask me any question you want. Don't you dare pull a stunt like this with these boys. Do you understand me? I will make sure you fly a desk till you retire."

Gagnon began to say something, obviously taken back.

To which I added, "As for my husband. Go ahead, make his life miserable, or try to, I dare you. When he gets done with you, his Colonel will then go to work and Colonel Monroe is a man you don't want to screw around with. And when he is finished, I'll hire the nastiest civilian lawyer with teeth like a shark to dig into you. I may not be a Special Forces Commando like my husband, but I can be a bitch and if you poke me, I will let her out and my inner bitch will destroy you. Forget my lawyer, she'll go after whatever is left of you."

There was a smile on Investigator Morgan's face from my tirade.

Gagnon moved his lips.

I held up a hand, "You know what, Troy was right. My lawyer is at my house raiding my fridge. I'm going to go get her and see what she says. This could be harassment! I'll call her now!" At that, I spun on the heel of my foot and stormed to the twins with every intention of calling Lynn.

She could probably give the agents a run for their money.

**A few seconds later…**

With a little hand in each of mine, I was halfway down the hall full of art on the cement walls before Investigator Morgan caught up with me.

"Mrs. Gordon! Please, stop, ma'am please!"

I stopped to give the boys outside more time.

The twins were annoyed. Well, Troy sighed and stopped his foot. Trey clung to my side. I pursed my lips and acted annoyed, "Yes Investigator?!"

He jogged toward me and held his hands up in peace, "Ma'am, ignore him, he's an asshole."

Under his breath Troy muttered what sounded like, "Duh."

I ignored it and so did Morgan.

"What do you two want," I demanded.

Morgan cut right to the chase.

I liked him for that.

"Ma'am what does your husband and his friends know exactly? What did you see last night? What is he holding back? It's my job to investigate and I cannot do that if he and his friends are holding back information and playing vigilantes."

His argument was good.

Yet, I couldn't help him.

Honestly I told him, "Whatever Gordon knows, I don't know. He does not share stuff like that with me. But…Sanderson, he's the reasonable one. Talk with him. Leave the asshole behind. If Sanderson has an idea he'll be the one to share it with Gordon, and vice versa. Just be…respectful…he's not an idiot and if you treat him like one he'll play dumb."

Morgan nodded, "The tall blonde one? Sergeant Jefferson Sanderson?"

"Yes sir," I nodded.

With a relieved face Morgan added, "Thank you ma'am."


	35. Chapter 35

**35.**

**Gordon.**

I was an excellent Operator. That I was extremely well at, that I could do with no problem. As a Ranger I was one of the best. Being a Ranger was fun, challenging, and at times easy. I could do those jobs with the simplest of ease. I could control myself and control the situation most the time. I controlled what happened to me.

However, as a husband, I was lacking control in that particular area.

Or so I had suspected until that particular afternoon. I came to such a conclusion as I let Sanderson into the small little room in the office. I had to unlock the door since moments earlier I had been finishing up quality time with my wife.

Before I let Sanderson in I made sure she was dressed.

She was somewhat dressed.

She had on pants and a shirt but was looking for her bra under the table. There was no telling where I had thrown that.

I let Sanderson in.

His blue eyes took in my appearance and lack of a shirt.

He said nothing about that, or Angela hunting around for her bra. Instead he closed the door behind himself and informed me, "Hoot believes he has found the airman. I also have CID Investigator Morgan asking for me."

Morgan.

That was odd.

We both looked over to my wife. Who just happened to be bent over a table on the hunt for her bra. Nothing decent came to my mind. God, I needed a cold shower. Some serious psychological counseling probably wouldn't be bad either, though, I had Hoot for that.

Sanderson nudged me.

Then he handed me a bra. A pink lacy bra to be exact. I took it and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"It was in the hall with this," he informed me as he held out my shirt.

Yeah, self-restraint vanished whenever I was around my wife.

I tossed Angela her bra as her cheeks turned redder then her hair.

I would have given it to her had Sanderson not grabbed the back belt loop of my jeans. So I pulled my shirt on instead.

"Angela, what did they talk with you about?"

She held her bra close.

Sanderson got the idea and turned around facing the door, his back to my beautiful spouse.

"No one's coming in here sweetie," I assured her.

Only then did she start to unbutton her shirt to put her bra on. In the process she told us, since I had gotten quality time before I bothered to ask what had gone on in the school.

I had to work on those priorities.

"Um…the irritating investigator threatened to make Gordon's life difficult if I didn't cooperate. Troy flipped him off. We left and Morgan then came after me. He was sincere about wanting to help so I told him that Sanderson was the most rational out of all you boys."

Before I could say anything Sanderson asked, "What did Morgan want to know?"

She got the white shirt off which looked oddly familiar. Quickly pulled on her bra, and then pulled the shirt back on. "Everything. He seemed sincere and knew his partner was useless."

It didn't take a genius to figure that one out. Sanderson and I shared a knowing look. My wife noticed the look. She sighed loudly, "What are you two up to?"

We looked to her and told her, "Nothing."

I could tell by her expression that she didn't believe us.


	36. Chapter 36

**36.**

After much whining and begging and pleading I had given into Trey and Troy and let them have an afternoon snack. A three-scoop ice cream cone. Not exactly the wisest choice I had made while taking care of them, since after they ate their snack they went out on the playground, and had been out there for two and a half hours with no signs of slowing down.

At least they'd be quiet on the ride home.

While they ran around the playground like madman on meth, I plopped myself down on a bench, which I laid down on, and began to skim over a book I had been trying to read for the past year.

Every so often I'd lower the book on my chest and see what the twins were up to.

Children came and went.

Not one near as sugared up as my two. I was so proud. Though how I was going to get the two of them in the car was a mystery to me. I'd worry about that later.

I lifted the book back up and skimmed around for the place I had left off when someone blocked my sunlight.

Almost annoyed, I looked up.

Curious to see who dared block my light.

It was non other then the base commander! Colonel something or other, I really should know his name. On his uniform was Reese, Colonel Reese sounded good to me.

Quickly I sat up and made room for him, "Good afternoon sir."

The colonel seemed harmless enough in a typical mid American boy next-door sort of way. Plus we were in a park on base in the middle of the afternoon. I seriously doubted the colonel was going to try and feel me up.

I was working very hard on being comfortable around people other then my husband and his people.

"Afternoon Mrs. Gordon, have you seen Lynda or the boys around here anywhere?"

I shook my head, "No sir. Just the usual base moms. Not that your wife isn't a usual wife of course, just enlisted. The officers usually use the playground at the officers club for their children, sir."

God, I really had to work on my talking to high-ranking officers. Gordon had it mastered.

The colonel gave me a kind smile.

He leant back on the wooden bench in his green uniform and looked at the twins as they swung on the swings, quite high. "Those are Sergeant Shuggarts boys?"

I nodded, "Yes sir. Trey and Troy. Troy has the cornrows and Trey has the puffy hair."

With a nod the colonel looked over at me, "Are you doing ok with them? With Randy being away so much?"

God.

What was the right answer!

I wanted to be sure I kept Randy out of trouble. He was as nerve wracking as Colonel Monroe's wife! With significantly more power though.

"Absolutely, Gordon and I have been pondering children so this is wonderful practice." There. That sounded good even to me.

There was a ring of truth to it too.

I watched Troy launch himself off the swing and go airborne.

Trey stopped himself with his feet. Dust was everywhere. I would be doing laundry when we got back home.

Troy landed on his feet and kept running, never missing a beat.

What had been in that ice cream?

"How is Master Sergeant Gordon? I heard about what happened last night. I want you to know all steps are being taken to get you and your family back in your home and find the person who broke in."

Well, that was nice.

I gave the colonel a smile, "Thank you sir. Gordon is fine, he has been at work all day."

I looked back to the boys who appeared to be chasing a frog. "Troy! Stop that! That thing could bite!"

Trey stopped running in spot. He froze as if he had his hand caught in a cookie jar.

Troy, however, turned and shouted, "Frogs don't bite! They don't even have teeth!"

I narrowed my eyes and he sighed and shuffled his feet, dejected. It didn't matter. Five seconds later they were busy digging a hole in the ground under the slide.

Laundry, yep.

Between the ice cream, grass stains, and now dirt; I'd be doing laundry all evening.

"I looked over the incident report. What were the intruders looking for? It said your entire residence had been trashed."

The colonel was right.

Therefore the entire house was a considered a crime scene.

"Yes sir, they went through everything. The man was after a camera…other then that I don't know. The two CID Investigators seem to have a theory though, they would be more helpful then me."

The colonel stayed with me and we talked for a while until Troy threw up, and then Trey. After that I took them to the car and took their filthy clothes off. The twins sat in the back of my new car, a Mustang, in their socks and Ninja Turtle Underwear. All while I washed their clothes out in the public bathroom. I wanted to get some of the vomit out.

I wrung the shorts and shirts out and put them in a bag.

Then I headed back to the car where the colonel waited with the twins. Both of who were sound asleep in the back seat. Coming down from their sugar high.

I placed their folded wet clothes on the floor and side the driver's seat back. Then I turned to the colonel, "Thanks for keeping an eye on them for me sir."

He looked over my new car.

Then gave me a smile, "Not a problem ma'am. Let your husband know that if he needs anything, him or the rest of his teammates, let me know. We're very close to catching the arsonist."

Or course I would tell him.

**Later that afternoon…**

With Trey slumped over my back, his bare legs dangling like a wind chime, and Troy sound asleep slumped across the backseat of the Mustang, I made my way into the side door of the garage and dropped the little boy in the hammock, which swayed with the weight, but didn't do much else.

I patted down his Afro and put a blanket over his sleeping body.

I placed a soft kiss on his warm, yet sticky cheek, pulled a piece of grass from his ear and then left him.

I did the same with Troy.

I pulled him out of my car by his ankles, carried him in the garage and put him on Gordon's air mattress. I covered the little man with a blanket and kissed his cheek.

Then it was back to the Mustang.

I dug around and cleaned up. I threw their dirty clothes in the wash and found their backpacks. Plus half a Butterfinger and a G.I. Joe under the front passenger seat. Somehow I doubted either came with the new car.

One thing I couldn't manage to find was my purse.

Maybe I had left it with Gordon at the office? In the moment of blinding passion I had managed to misplace my bra, I could have misplaced my purse.

That was a possibility.

I stood up and wiped my hands on my jeans, pondering whether I needed to call his office. That thought quickly left my mind when the base commander pulled into the driveway.


	37. Chapter 37

**37.**

**Gordon.**

"Randy…why is this seat wet…and sticky?"

Randy was driving me home since we were staying in the same area within houses of one another. Hoot and Sanderson were way across the street three blocks away.

"Oh…Troy spilled his corn flakes this morning."

I looked at him.

That explained that. It would also be a nice change from telling my wife that the stains in my clothes were blood, gunpowder, sewage, and other fun stuff. The stains were cornflakes on this particular day.

Which led me to my next point, "You shouldn't sugar up your boys in the morning. Feed them protein. Eggs or meat…those Hot Pockets are good. Have you ever had those?"

I wasn't paying attention to the road. The neighborhood or street. I was sitting in sugar water, warm sugar water. It couldn't be good for my boys. Plus there was something wedged in the sleeve behind the seat that was digging in my back.

"Yeah…what the hell is your problem? Your as ancy as Trey."

Under my breath I swore.

I reached around the seat and grabbed the hard bulky thing, which turned out to be a rather large Power Ranger. Which I threw over my shoulder and into the back seat.

"I thought they were into those turtles?"

Randy snorted, he carefully avoided parked cars in his vintage Charger, which had suddenly become the "Daddy Mobile."

"They are, and the Power Rangers. Troy has a interest in Darth Vader that is disturbing."

Disturbing?

Curious, I asked, "How so?"

Steering one handed, Randy risked a look at me, "He considers it a positive thing to control the universe."

Hmmm.

That was interesting. "It's actually refreshing."

Randy looked back to the road, confusion in his voice, "Tyranny and world domination?"

Not that. I rolled my eyes. Randy was so narrow-minded. "Your son has high ambitions for someone so young, you should be proud."

That made Randy smile.

He turned the car again and we were on our street. I could see the house of King Anal Retentive. My wife's new car, a cherry red mustang. It had to be some sort of female thing.

Then I noticed she was in the driveway with someone.

A man.

The base commander.

Randy articulated the profanity I was thinking. It began with a F and ended with a K.

He sped up and parked the car in the street, like one did in Suburbia. Managing to get the wheel on the King's lawn, which could be matched by nothing less then the green fields of Ireland.

I hopped out.

Slammed the door.

The base commander saw me and paled slightly. My wife glanced up from whatever she was looking at and a smile crossed her face. She then looked back down at some sort of paperwork in a file.

Randy followed me.

She glanced back at us, "They are sleeping in the garage, Randy."

He nodded but didn't go in. I was glad. It was nice to have someone of equal strength at my back. Not that Angela wouldn't be there, she was, she just couldn't fold the colonel three ways and put him in a mailbox. Randy could.

"Afternoon sir, what brings you to this neck of the woods."

Rude, slightly, but I spoke pleasantly and added the sir.

There. I was a good soldier.

I sided up next to Angela and saw the paperwork the colonel had brought her. This did not please me. The paperwork was some weird form I had never seen before, some sort of acquisition form.

I slid my arm around Angela's waist easily, "Sweetie, let me see that."

She handed me the paper.

Oblivious to my suspicions of the base commanding officer, or his sudden nervousness. Which grew less subtle when I peered over the form which wasn't any I had ever seen.

Angela leant against me, calm, collected, but she cast another curious look at Randy. Who would normally never waste any precious time that he had with his sons, especially after waiting so long to find them and get them back.

Randy didn't look over my shoulder, "What is it?"

"Some sort of acquisition form that I've never seen before," was what I told him and the truth.

The colonel wanted to have all our possessions moved to a new house once the house was released and no longer a crime scene. None of it at our expense. Which made me wonder who would be moving our stuff?

God bless my wife and her sometimes-eccentric behavior which didn't bother me in the least. Other people however, well, it drove them up the wall, like the colonel.

"I already told him not to worry," Angela informed me.

She was the best wife in the world.

Plus she didn't like people going through her stuff, packing her things, or anything like that. It was some sort of psychological something leftover from our youth. The possessions she had she coveted. When we were on the run she was always having to leave things behind, or things got stolen. Which caused her to get clingy with her stuff.

Me, I didn't have anything I couldn't live without; just her and my rifle.

"You're the best wife in the world," I told her and kissed her temple. I handed the base commander the paper back. "No thank you sir. If we decide to move to a different house we'll move our own stuff."


	38. Chapter 38

**38.**

There was something afoot with the boys, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. They were up to something. I had been married to Gordon and known him long enough to know the look of deviance when he was plotting something behind those stunning blue eyes of his.

That something involved the base commander.

Somehow it did, I could tell by the way Gordon behaved around the man.

After we had our BBQ.

Which the entire block took part in. There were enough grills in the street we could have landed airplanes.

Afterward Gordon informed me that he was going to go out for a run and then hit the gym. This was a red flag that something was afoot, something was the matter.

I did not doubt that he wasn't going to the gym.

However, my husband picked at a salad and had some water for dinner. While he usually consumes no less then two thousand calories a day while at home. He always had an appetite unless we were short on food, and there was enough to feed the Chinese Army at the BBQ.

Then, rarely did he work out at night. Nighttime was our time and he loved quality time. I loved quality time to be honest.

So when he took off out the garage door I knew he was plotting something. He always thought up stuff while working out. Or worked through stuff while working out.

So I gave him an hour while I did some paperwork in the hammock which would be my bed. I set up an air mattress beneath the hammock for him. Then I started a load of laundry.

When the second hour went by I started to read a book with Fabio on the cover and wondered how he was supposed to be good looking.

The third hour went by and I gave up reading the book, instead I skimmed through looking for love scenes and painted my toenails.

When it came on four hours I put on my flip-flops and drove down to the gym. Granted, I could have walked.

I also didn't have to eat a rack of ribs and two ears of corn. Exercise was ok, I just didn't want to eat my dinner all night long.

I parked in the pretty much empty parking lot and walked into the gym. It was in the same center as the commissary and the Burger King. Apparently no one else was at the gym, they were at home having quality time with their spouses. Or practicing their God given right not to go to the gym at nine o'clock at night.

Once in the spacious gym the smell of sweat and manliness hit my nose. The young lady behind the desk looked up at me. I looked around at all the equipment. None of which held my husband. So I walked over and peered over the desk at her, "Is my husband here?"

She cocked an eyebrow which had a hoop through it, "And he is…"

"Gor…Master Sergeant Gary Gordon." I really had to work on the rank. Not everyone knew him as Gordon. He had a rank and that was what most people knew him as.

She gave me a look.

A look I was used to. Envy. The _you lucky bitch_ look. Then she pointed, "He's in the weight room."

She pointed to swing doors on the far wall.

So I strolled across the huge gym. Through the swing doors which were something out of a restaurant. I kinda liked them. They had character.

Into the weight room.

My husband had to be the only person in the gym. He was the only guy in the weight room. Oddly, he wasn't lifting weights. Oh no, he was beating the living hell out of a punching bag. He wasn't just hitting the poor bag. Nope. It looked like he was trying to beat the pulp out of it.

The sounds his gloved fists made when they made contact were loud, hard.

I knew how heavy and hard the bags were that huge from the ceiling. He was hitting and kicking it as if it were nothing, a pillow at best.

I always knew he was strong.

Much much physically stronger then me.

But watching him hit the bag. Hearing the sounds of him hitting the bag. Even watching his body move surely, expertly, with ease as he beat the bag.

It didn't scare me.

It made me stop dead in my tracks.

He had occasional outbursts which he kept in check, I had never seen him unrestrained. Or the totality of his strength, or even the anger he hid from me. The muscles that I had grown to love and worship in bed, or around the house for silly little chores; their true use occurred before me.

I turned.

Bothered for some reason, upset or something.

There was someone behind me. I hadn't heard or noticed the girl come in the room.

She scared me.

I shrieked and jumped a few steps back.

She gave me a weird look and chomped on her gum, "Lady. You're parked in a handicap spot. I'd move your car or _supercop_ will come by and ticket you."

Supercop?

Oh yeah, supercop. He enforced all the traffic and parking laws and would ticket anyone. He was quite popular.

I looked back to Gordon, who was curiously looking at me in nothing but sweatpants and boxing gloves. All his muscle there and so obvious, no longer just a six-pack and nice arms that were fun to grope in bed. There was a purpose for him to be in such shape.

A purpose I had never even considered before, how naïve was I?


	39. Chapter 39

_Authors Note: Hi all! I have like 2 ½ weeks until I have finals and wanted to do something semi normal with this part fic. So enjoy and review! Reviews are helpful and always read with great interest and ponderment! All suggestions and ideas are pondered. _

**39.**

**Gordon**

That bastard gave us a parking ticket! I was so pissed off. Angela simply snatched the ticket out of my hand and pointed to the passenger seat, "Get in the car."

I would be the first to admit my wife had my balls in her purse.

Yet, I honestly didn't care.

A smile curled on my lips and I walked around my wife's new car. A little red mustang. The car had potential. I opened the door and dropped down in the passenger seat.

It even had that new car smell.

We never had a new car.

New cars did have a peculiar smell to them. She dropped down in the drivers seat and gave me a look, "Don't look at me in that tone."

Tone?

What tone.

I rolled my eyes and prayed I wasn't getting sweat all over her new seats. "I'm not looking at you in any tone sweetheart." There was even a butt warmer in the seat. I looked over the brand new interior as she started the new car.

It sounded so nice.

"Sweetie…"

She gave me a look. Able to read my mind. There was no need for words of any kind. Instead she sighed and I hopped out of the new car. While she climbed over the console I ran around and hopped in the drivers seat.

New cars were fun.

Sanderson was right.

I had to adjust the seat since she was shorter then me. Shorter and smaller in everyway. There was something almost intimidating about being so much stronger then her. It terrified me on more then one level. Long ago there was a time when I tiptoed around her, when I realized that I could physically put down a man three times my size.

She placed a small hand on my arm giving me a squeeze while I backed the car up, "Drive over to the commissary, I want some ice cream."

She was so easy to please.

I drove across the parking lot, cutting through the spaces and made sure I was perfectly in another so we wouldn't get another ticket from the Ticket-Nazi. I got out of the car and had to run after her. She raced into the commissary without shoes on. Across the damn parking lot barefoot!

I slammed the car door.

No one would break into it, there were a mere five cars in the lot. Which I easily crossed, caught up to her, and swung her over my shoulder without much effort.

I carried packs heavier then Angela.

She let out a shriek and her hands swatted at my butt, but she didn't put up any real resistance. By the time we made it into the shopping center I had maneuvered her and she rode on my back piggyback style.

Her legs easily wrapped around my waist and she buried her nose against my sweaty neck.

The commissary had a few stragglers and people who had walked down from their houses. There were some kids buying ice cream or paintballs. A few young specialists shopping with their civilian girlfriends.

While I made my way to the food store she wiggled her toes and asked, "Gordon? Sweetie?"

I lifted my head and looked up into her dark eyes.

She looked as if she were about to ask me something particularly deep while I pushed the door to the food store open with my foot. Then she asked, "Why don't you have a tattoo?"

Not the question I was expecting.

But I pondered it while walking towards the freezers.

To be honest I had never even seriously considered a tattoo. There had been more pressing matters to consider. I shrugged and she asked, "Would you be vehemently opposed to me getting a tattoo?"

My wife getting a tattoo?  
I came to a stop and looked up at her. There was a broad smile across her lips and she placed a kiss on my forehead.

Tattoos were for bad girls.

My wife was not a bad girl. Sanderson was right, I really had to work on that MY thing. But I'd get on that later. Being possessive was not such a bad thing…or maybe it was and I was in denial about it. Who the hell knew. I needed serious psychological help, maybe Hoot and I could get a group discount.

"It could be a pretty little tattoo," she added.

After being around Hoot far too long I told her, "Baby, whatever makes you happy."

Usually she was sweetie, sweetie was so much more of a cute endearment then baby, which seemed to be for more of a sex kitten. Not that my wife wasn't sexy in her own way. But, I just could never call her baby after hearing Hoot call every "flavor of the month" baby.

She gave me that smile and then swatted at my bottom, "Hurry up, I want ice cream."

**Later that evening…**

After some quality time well spent with my wife on the air mattress we then ate the Crunch Klondike bars we had gotten. I had to run into the house in nothing but what God gave me to get them though. And I was pretty sure that Jesse's Grandmother who was visiting from Madrid for her 105th birthday was peeking at me.

Or she was a sleepwalker who knew how to use NVGs.

Once I was safely in the garage and under the blanket with my wife, on the air mattress she had somehow turned into a homely little nest with a slew of pillows and blankets. The pillows were puffy and the blankets were soft making it that much more relaxing.

We could be anywhere, under any situation or circumstance and she could make it homey.

She could make everything perfect.

Even curled up beside me eating her ice cream bar as it melted down her arm, in little more then one of my olive drab t-shirts with her hair in some sort of a messy bun, pieces falling down or missed altogether, at two in the morning, in a garage; it was somehow utterly perfect.

I had already eaten mine.

So I laid back on the air mattress and watched her lick her fingers while trying to hold vanilla ice cream, while chomping away at the candy crunchies.

All by candle light.

"Angela. Sweetheart. I think you are making as big of a mess as Randy's sons."

She stuck her tongue out at me.

Quickly I caught her hand and ate the remaining whiteish ice cream. She began to pout and I kissed her, getting a mouth full of chocolate and rice crispies. Which somehow made her even more enticing.

She deepened this kiss, running her sticky fingers into my hair. I didn't care. Though her shirt needed to come off.

She hopped on my lap and the air mattress made a noise. Somehow I didn't think it was made for such activities, yet, I honestly didn't care. Her shirt had to come off.

Off, off, off.

My fingers found the hem of the thinning and flimsy shirt, then the soft smooth skin of her thighs, and the sound of someone pounding on the side garage door stopped my fingers from further exploration of a surface my fingers were well acquainted with.

Someone then tried to turn the doorknob. Which I had locked. Then came voices, "It's fuckin locked man!"

"Hoot stand back, he might be in bed. This is not the world's wisest way to wake up a sniper. Step aside."

Oh God no.

Hoot and Sanderson at two in the morning, this could not be good. From above me she hissed, "Make them go away! I'm not finished with you."

I truly knew how she felt.

I sat up, taking her with me, kissing her deeply in the process and enjoying the ice cream yet again. Then I playfully dumped her on the air mattress and hurried to the door before they decided to pick the lock.

Quickly I unlocked it and peeked out, "What is your problem! Don't you two have better things to do at this hour? There are strip clubs open you know!"

Sanderson and Hoot looked me over.

A annoyed look covered Hoot's face, "That ain't fair! How come you're gettin more action then me."

A million thoughts came to mind.

When I had decided which one to vocalize Sanderson held up a hand, "Hold that thought. We need to tell you something…you'll want to hear this."

Hoot added on to Sanderson's comment, "An put some pants on G. Ain't no one wanna see that much skin."

Sanderson swatted at Hoot and I heard a dog barking somewhere out in the night.

It was dark out, very dark.

From deep within the garage my wife's voice came, "Send them away and come back to bed."

Suddenly I felt twelve years old.

Sanderson's eyebrows rose and a huge smile grew over Hoot's face, "You dawg."

Almost annoyed but not surprised, Sanderson shoved Hoot away and stepped close, so Hoot couldn't peek in. "Meet us at Rome's house. It'll take a few minutes, max, and then you can get back to your little sack session with the wife."


	40. Chapter 40

_Authors Note: Ok, so this is the end of this but I'm inspired so there is a part 2 of the same title. Enjoy and review. The sequel will tie up the smaller loose ends left from this fic._

**40. **

**Gordon**

There were big happenings. I had no sooner pulled on some pants and ran out into the front yard, or 5 by 5 patch of grass green as a field in Ireland, when I was met by Sanderson and Hoot.

Sanderson grabbed my arm, "He's dead man."

I froze and blinked.

Then realized that they had gotten me out of Angela's ear range. Which was a good thing I suppose. The less she knew the better, which had always been my way of thinking.

"Base commander man. Shot himself in the head when he found out CID had a warrant for's arrest," Hoot nodded.

Well that was unexpected.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Really? What about the others? Any word on the airman?"

Hoot looked to Sanderson and I mirrored him, Sanderson kind of shrugged. He rocked back on his flip-flops and muttered, "I don't know. That's why we came and woke you up. The captain left a note behind."

Now I had known Sanderson a few years. I could tell that there was something else he didn't add, something else going on. Something else was afoot.

Hoot nudged our mutual friend.

Under the moon in the grass, which I wiggled my toes in, Sanderson added, "The CID guy called me to let me know this. He also told me to tell the guys to watch our backs until the rest of the people involved are rounded up. He seems to think they'll go AWOL, but, just keep an eye open man."

Keep an eye open.

Not a problem.

"Did you guys tell Randy?"

Hoot nodded, "Yeah. We were just over there. We're going around telling the guys."

**A few minutes later…**

I knocked softly on the door and a few minutes later Randy peeked out in pretty much nothing but boxers, "Yeah man?"

There I was, under the full moon in nothing more then a pair of jeans. I'm sure it looked great to the neighbors. Like I cared though. Ignorant of the cool air I simply told Randy, knowing I wasn't getting sleep therefore he probably wouldn't. "Look, if you wanna sleep in shifts. Why don't you come camp in the garage with Angela and me. You and the twins can have the hammock and we'll camp on the air mattress. That way we'll get a little sleep."

Something passed over Randy's face.

Relief?

"Yeah, we'll be right over."


End file.
